Chiaroscuro
by Kala Lane-Kent
Summary: Chiaroscuro (noun): the interplay of light and dark; the use of contrasting light and dark values in art to represent a three-dimensional object. Kala Lane-Kent has succeeded in everything she came to Gotham to do: learn to be a hero, and tame her darkness. And something she didn't plan: Jason Todd. Secrets have come to light, but how will this connection change her life?
1. Unsettled Nighttime Creatures

**Authors' Note:** Welcome back! If you haven't read_ Into the Shadows_, part of the _Little Secrets_ Superman Returns AU, you're going to be **very** confused. This fic takes place within about a week of the final chapter of _Shadows_, and continues the story of its lead characters, Jason Todd and Kala Lane-Kent.

The briefest possible summary of the story to date: Imagine _Superman Returns_ filmed with Christopher Reeve and Margot Kidder's characterization of Clark Kent and Lois Lane. And instead of another Last Son of Krypton, Lois' surprise pregnancy brought a set of twins into the world, Jason and Kala. This is very AU, and draws from both film and comics canon.

The Lane-Kent family has weathered all sorts of challenges and survives in defiance of all that Lex Luthor or General Zod could do to destroy them. The twins are now in their early twenties, and Jason is happily married to his high school sweetheart Elise Thorne, expecting twins of their own. Kala's path has been a bit more winding, as she struggled to find a relationship that will last. Jason is known to the public as Superboy, supposedly a clone of Superman, a ruse that helps keep his identity hidden. To further obfuscate the matter, Kala is only known as the Blur, and until recently has not been very active in the hero community. A minor mistake that could've had major consequences leads to her getting a scathing rebuke from one of the original Titans, with the implication that she was squandering her gifts as a dilettante hero. In true Lane fashion she reacted by going to Gotham City to train as a hero with some of the toughest teachers in the community: the Bats and the Birds of Prey.

Along the way she bumped into one Red Hood, who had recently returned to Gotham and who was operating with Batman's blessing, even if the cooperation was grudging on both sides. It was hate at first sight. Jason Todd had heard about Goth Barbie from several biased sources, and he didn't want a shiny Super bouncing around his town, having vapors at the kind of darkness Gotham holds. Meanwhile Kala made her living as a singer in a Goth band, and she had plenty of experience with self-centered arrogant edgier-than-thou types. He issued a challenge to try and scare her off working in his town, but it didn't exactly go the way he planned - Kala turned out to have a stubborn streak of darkness in her soul that he never expected from a Super. If he couldn't chase her out of Gotham, he decided to make sure she didn't suffer the same fate as some other newbie heroes such as himself. With Batman's blessing, Red Hood took over the majority of her training.

Learning to be a competent fighter _without_ powers was just part of the curriculum. Stealth, teamwork, and field medicine were also on the syllabus. Along the way Kala and Jay learned a lot more about each other than they'd planned to, and discovered similarities that no one would've expected. His work with her also had the side benefit of bringing him back home to the Manor, at least part time. Mixed signals, uncertainty, and past mistakes got in the way, but disdain turned to respect, respect turned to admiration, and admiration turned to attraction. Eventually they fell into bed and into a relationship that both of them are still a little uneasy about naming. What they have works for them, and neither wants to examine it too closely for fear of damaging it.

As it turned out, the biggest obstacle to Kala becoming a hero wasn't her relative inexperience, her flaws both real and imagined, or even her extremely public day job. When she was only sixteen years old - the same age Jay had been when he 'died' - she'd been held captive by Luthor, and forged a desperate alliance with General Zod to keep Luthor from obtaining all the weapons secrets of the twenty-eight known galaxies. The terror of those days - and Dru-Zod's mental manipulation - left her with a shadow-self Kala had yet to fully confront. Jay knew all about dark sides, and what a person can do when driven to extremes of fear and rage. He helped her get a handle on the worst side of herself, partially because no matter how dark she could be, he always saw the light in her.

She became a full-fledged hero and gained peace of mind that she badly needed, but Kala lost one of the most important relationships in her life: her best friend and co-singer Sebast, who couldn't abide all the secrets she was keeping. She wouldn't even admit to dating someone, when they had always discussed each other's men before, and then was extremely evasive about _who _she was seeing. When she and Jay slipped up and let themselves be filmed kissing, Sebast was the only one to recognize the mysterious middle Wayne brother. He and Kala had a huge fight that ended with him walking out of the band. That one little video also outed their relationship to their respective families and the superhero community at large. And really, dealing with Joker, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, and Scarecrow was a piece of cake compared to her over-protective big brother finding out that Kala was sleeping with _Red Hood_.

The next chapter of Kala and Jay's lives begins as that revelation begins to impact everyone, and other forces act directly and indirectly on their world. Pieces of the puzzle are falling into place all around, but things are only growing more complicated.

* * *

Barbara Gordon had long since grown accustomed to phone calls to her secure line at all hours of the night, but she had her phone programmed with a special ring for certain numbers. One of them was Dinah, of course, Helena had her own ring, and she wouldn't have admitted under torture that another of them was Dick.

Still another was calling her now, her phone giving out a low insistent chirp, and Babs pulled herself away from her current research into Guyot-Perrin's projects to answer it with her usual clipped, "Oracle." Given whose ring tone that was, they would both know her concern was far more than professional.

A beat of silence, and Babs closed her eyes, knowing which of her girls was on the line just by that hesitation. Oh, Dinah and Helena were hers, too, her agents, her friends, but _these _were her girls. One of them as close to her heart as a daughter. "It is Shiva," Cass finally said, her voice hushed.

Babs had to literally bite her tongue to keep from saying, _Come home_. One, Cass would take it personally, thinking Babs didn't trust her to handle this. And two, she wouldn't do it. All she could accomplish was to make Cass feel guilty about disobeying orders. "You're certain?" she asked.

"Saw her." Cass paused, and added, "She rules here."

Babs leaned her head into her hands and only let herself curse in her mind, borrowing a few of Dick's pungent circus-slang expressions for the purpose. "Do not engage, Batgirl. I'll do some further research on this end first. You need to know what you're jumping into."

"I will search, too," Cass replied.

She couldn't say _no_, so Babs told her, "Be _careful_. Absolute secrecy."

And imagined she could hear a smile in the girl's voice as Cass said, "Yes."

Another pause as Cass handed the phone off, and Steph came on the line. "Hey, Babs, we're gonna play it cool. We don't know what Shiva's plans are, just that she's here, and there's a new wave of radicalism sweeping through the camps further south. My _guess_ – and it's a purely unscientific hunch based on some hearsay – is that the more extreme elements of the group up here are leaving because Shiva doesn't play according to their rules."

"Probably a good hunch," Babs admitted, queuing up search programs on her computer to track any activity under any of Talia's known aliases. If Shiva was making a bid to take over part of the League of Shadows, sooner or later Talia would show up to deal with it. And she didn't want either of her girls in the middle of _that_. "I'm pulling all the data I can. You two, try to keep to passive information-gathering. I don't want to spook Shiva."

All the while she was trying to decide who best to send over to Libya. Dinah and Helena were both highly trained operatives, both adept at infiltrating enemy organizations … and both currently occupied in Gotham City itself. The power vacuum caused by Black Mask landing in jail still wasn't settled, though with Scarecrow in Arkham now, the loose ends in the city were currently being tied up by Two-Face. Penguin had quietly consolidated some of them into his own ranks, but Cobblepot hadn't made any overt moves in a while. And Joker was still out there somewhere, planning something. He was always planning something.

It was the kind of situation where, no matter how much data Babs was able to gather, nothing would make sense until some patterns began to emerge.

Steph, meanwhile, chuckled at her choice of words. "I know what you mean, but the concept of _me_ spooking someone like Shiva… Now I wanna jump out of an alleyway and yell 'Boo!' just to see what happens. Even though I know she'd probably just flatten me. The look on her face would be worth it."

"I'd rather you didn't," Babs said, and heard Cass simply say 'No' from somewhere near the phone.

Sighing, Steph said, "It was a _joke_, guys. I'm blonde, but I'm not _that_ dumb."

Babs heard Cass' voice a lot closer to the phone, and her tone was suddenly fierce. "Not stupid."

"Okay, okay," Steph replied, with a little laugh. "Ease down, I surrender – I have an above-average IQ."

Smiling a little, Babs hazarded a guess. "She won't let you trash-talk yourself."

Another heavy sigh, the kind only teenagers were capable of. "You're right, Batgirl is my personal self-image police. Which is _ridiculous_."

"Good," Babs said softly. _Someone_ needed to stop Steph from agreeing with everyone who spoke ill of her. And Cass was just stubborn enough to make it stick no matter how many times she had to interrupt. Babs continued, "I'm going to let Batman know, but things in Gotham are highly unsettled just now. I can't send someone right away."

Cass cleaned close to the phone, and said, "We will watch."

Babs heard the faintest little noise, something that sounded like a smooch, and smiled. Trust Steph to deal with Cass getting in her space by kissing her on the cheek. Steph added, "And that's _all_ we're doing, for now. I'll keep you posted, O."

"I appreciate it," Babs replied. "Take care of yourselves. Call in at least once daily; if you miss a day I'll assume you're compromised and send someone to extract you, no matter how short it leaves us here."

After they signed off, she sat there staring at the computer screen and not seeing it for several long moments. Dinah and Helena had both gradually taught her to trust her people in the field. And she could trust Cass and Steph not to endanger each other or civilians; the only thing she feared was them endangering themselves. Cass was driven to confront her mother, Babs knew. Sandra Wu-San had walked away shortly after her birth, and never tried to contact her. The few times they'd crossed paths, she seemed more interested in Cass' martial arts skills than anything about her as a person.

Sighing, Babs picked up the phone again to call Bruce. Internal League of Shadows politics weren't really their purview, but with the girls in the region – and civilian repercussions factored in as well – they'd have to get involved eventually. The only question was _when_. And how bad the fallout would be.

…

The last few weeks had been an absolute circus for Kala, still not used to being the main focus of the tour. Thank God, the tour itself was keeping the industry reporters away, especially since she'd been ordered to pretty much leave it to the label to comment. For now, she was fine with that. She had more than enough to keep herself busy just learning the new routines that had been necessitated by her being the only voice the crowd heard. It had always been challenging, doing this, but Kala was realizing more and more just how much of all of the work had been shared by she and Sebast, not all of which was on-stage. Yeah, it was a struggle to never have a moment alone, but then actually being alone was sometimes worse. Too much time to think, too much space in the loft, no need to inch out of bed in the morning to go sun-up. And no non-stop chatter, no constant laughter, no arguments over who got the toothpaste first. Even the thunder of the arenas didn't dispel that ghost, especially when she could still feel him dancing beside her even now.

After missing Jay for almost a week, Kala forced her to make excuses to the boys and stole a night to come over. Morgan had almost seemed relieved when she said she needed a night out, all the boys seeming to get the need for her restlessness. Of course they would assume she was going to _him_ and they were absolutely right, she thought, shooting off a quick text. Once in the air, Kala oriented herself straight for Gotham.

She caught him just in time for patrol, using her key to let herself into the bunker. Jay was armoring up for the night, but the moment she came in, he stopped long enough to kiss her. "Business as usual?" Kala asked, when he let her up for air.

"Standard patrol," he told her, and tugged on her bound-up hair playfully. Kala swatted at him lightly, and blurred into her uniform. Sometimes it almost felt as if she truly was becoming someone else when she suited up, all of the stress and uncertainty vanishing at the sound of the zipper's pull. And lately, it was the best feeling in the world. Feeling eyes on her, Kala turned as Jay shot her a grin. "You know, I wouldn't mind watching that at normal human speed."

"And if you did, we wouldn't get out on patrol in time," Kala retorted, not even trying to hide her smile. And yeah, spending the time with Jay helped, too. They'd taken to flying most places – Jay just claimed he didn't eat for three hours before patrol, so her crazier maneuvers wouldn't result in rains of vomit on the unsuspecting citizens below – and Kala took his arm. "Ready, Red?"

"For you? Always," he laughed, and she rolled her eyes as they took off, picking a rooftop to lurk on.

They ran a typical Bowery patrol, drugs and gangs and robberies, oh my. By now, it was almost relaxing, a rhythm Kala could fall into just as easily as the dance routines for her most popular songs. Everyone in the East End knew Red Hood, so their typical method was for Jay to take point, and just as the bad guys realized they had a problem, Kala would come swooping in. Between the two of them, they tended to mop things up pretty quickly. For her, this was a welcome escape.

…

Of course, things in the Bowery rarely went according to plan. Jay and Kala busted into a drug deal, and there turned out to be reinforcements on the way. He dropped two guys, not reaching for his gun yet. No need to waste his non-lethal rounds, that shit was more expensive than good old-fashioned lead. He could hear men groaning in pain as Kala dealt with them, and then a sudden _whack!_ That had a little too much metallic crunch in it, and he knocked out the man in front of him, turning to see what was up.

Some fool had gotten lucky, gotten a grip on Kala, and full-body-smashed her into the hood of a car. Jay's vision went red, and he drew his gun, but one of the guys closer to him took advantage of his distraction and tried to stab him. One rubber bullet to the thigh, and a boot to the face, convinced him to quit.

Meanwhile the guy who'd slammed Kala gave a barking laugh. "Caught the Blur! Now let's see what's under that uniform, little girl."

Jay would've shot him, but suddenly he couldn't _see_ him. At least, not until he was lying on his gut, stunned, with his hands and feet zip-tied, all of which had evidently taken about a second. Kala stood over him, smirking, and quipped, "Normally I like forceful men, but I have a prior engagement, and you seem a little tied up right now. Sorry."

"Oh, man, that's _terrible_," Jay groaned, still laughing. They wiped out the rest of the men, leaving them bagged and tagged for GCPD, and Jay shook his head at Kala. "Really awful. Who do you think you are? Robin?"

"Guilty by association," she teased.

Jay smirked, and zip-lined to the next rooftop, still looking for trouble. Kala fetched up beside him, laughing at her own wit, and he aimed a punch to her shoulder. She caught his fist, her smile lighting up to supernova levels.

Glancing down, Jay didn't see anything that needed their attention. At least, not just now. "Wanna spar?" he asked.

"_God,_ don't tell me you're bored already," Kala laughed.

"You're the one grinning," Jay pointed out, and gave in. Why not? They hadn't had many opportunities to train, lately. Call this a little al fresco exercise.

He swung, she dodged, he wrapped her arm in a chain, and they traded blows and blocks in an exhilarating rhythm. Kala's blood was up, she met him at every turn, even when he spun her around and yanked her close. She just reached up, grabbed his shoulders, and flipped herself over him. With the side benefit of pulling his own chain across his throat.

Jay laughed out loud, letting go of the other end of it, reaching back to grapple her. Kala was stronger, when she wanted to be, but she was laying off the powers for the moment. He threw them both to the ground, scuffling and growling at each other, but eventually he got her pinned. "I could always hover and dump you on your ass," Kala pointed out, but she looked entirely too happy right where she was.

"You could, but you're not," Jay pointed out, and popped his helmet off to kiss her.

Just like every time, the world went electric with that kiss, his nerves humming and zinging. This was _Kala_, by some crazy twist of fate a woman like _this_ liked playing these kinds of ridiculous rough games with _him_, and holy shit Jay must've done something really right in a previous life to be getting this lucky.

Not that he was _actually_ getting lucky. Not right now, anyway. Babs' digitized voice spoke in their comms. "Hood, Blur, if you're not too preoccupied, we've got a silent alarm six blocks north of your position."

Both of them groaned. "Your timing is impeccable, as always," Kala said, with a rueful smile for Jay.

"No rest for the righteous," he agreed, and got up, yanking the helmet back on. "Do you just get off on cockblocking me, Oracle, or is it the universe conspiring against me?"

"Little of both," Babs replied with a chuckle. "I didn't schedule the break-in, but I _do_ enjoy needling the pair of you."

"It's how you show you love us," Kala said dryly. "C'mon, Jaybird, let's go bust some bad guys."

"Dunno if I'd call it love," he said, his voice a little wary. "Sounds more like she's on a power-trip, to me."

"If knowledge is power, she's the most powerful person in town," Kala replied, smirking. "Scratch that – most powerful person on the continent."

"Don't damn me with faint praise," Babs laughed.

Jay just rolled his eyes. "Enough, enough, let's go. Don't build up her ego anymore, K, she'll turn into Batman."

The two men breaking into a payday advance shop didn't know why their attackers were laughing, but Kala and Jay managed to wrap them up despite their amusement.

The rest of the night wore on, too busy for play. Toward the end of patrol, they stopped a scuffle between rival gangs; there was a _lot_ of that going on lately, with Sionis still in jail and Crane in Arkham. Someone always had to try to be top dog, and it looked like Dent was making a bid this time, resulting in clashes with everyone else's men. There were also more ordinary gangs, _not _led by nutjobs in masks, although they tended to come off badly against the rogues' men. And that was before even mentioning the organized crime from old families like the Falcones. It was all a constantly-evolving mess, no stability at all, and in the Bowery was the worst of it.

Jay put a stop to what he could, and in the midst of tonight's ugly brawl, he thought he saw some familiar faces among Dent's men. His helmet's eyepieces could record photos, and he took a few to compare later. Then he and Kala finally signed off.

Back at his apartment, Kala headed upstairs to take her shower while Jay washed off down in the bunker. She usually took a little longer than he did – girl stuff – so he ran the photos he'd taken through an image matching program.

There were hits on three of them. Two had ties to the Falcones. The third was one of Penguin's. Jay frowned, looking them over, and read up on their known offenses in the police records and the things they were suspected of in the Bat-computer's database. It took a little longer than it should've – all three were low-level thugs, with most of their crimes being relatively minor. Their rap sheets were impressively long, however. Just how many times did a guy have to get arrested for robbery before he admitted he was no damn good at it?

Jay sighed, closed the files … and saw the time. Honestly he was surprised Kala hadn't come down here to pry him off the computer. Unless she'd gotten pissed at having to wait, and simply flown off. Chagrined, he headed upstairs.

Where he found Kala laying across the bed, and already asleep. Jay watched her for a few minutes, smiling to himself; she was just wearing one of his shirts and her panties, and they were _cute_ panties. He'd seen that pair before, black with a set of big cat-eyes across the butt, and Jay had teased Kala that she should've bought a pair for Selina. She'd rolled her eyes at him for that.

She _was_ the only woman he'd been with who would wear something like that. It was impossible to imagine any of them in something this whimsical. Rose came the closest, but she had a sharper sense of humor than Kala. Jay had seen her in a tank top with 'You say 'Bitch' like it's a bad thing' across the front, but she didn't go in for cutesy underwear. Then again, he shouldn't be surprised – that one night in the study he'd seen Kala in Superman pajama pants and a Cheshire cat shirt. Charming whimsy was definitely her thing.

Tonight she'd laid down with the lights on, and his copy of _West with the Night _was in her hand. Kala had obviously intended to wait up for him, she'd just lost the battle against sleep before he got here.

It'd be rude to wake her, and besides, sex wasn't the only reason they spent time together. So Jay put the book away, turned out the light, and carefully eased the blankets out from under her. As soon as he touched her, Kala murmured something in her sleep, grabbed his hand, and tugged him closer. He laughed, and kissed her shoulder. "Roll over so I can get the covers over you, K."

She blinked owlishly, clearly not awake, and rolled, letting him pull the sheets up over her even as he tucked himself in beside her. Kala immediately snuggled into his side, and he chuckled, "See you in the morning, Sleeping Beauty." Her only answer was another wordless mumble, drawing his arm around her tighter. Jay fell asleep with a smile on his lips.

A few hours later, he woke muzzily at some sound. It wasn't immediately identifiable, and not especially threatening, but it was a sound in his vicinity, and he'd trained himself to always be alert. The first thing Jay saw was a bleary image of glowing eyes moving around.

His reaction to _that_ was automatic, gun drawn from beneath the pillow and the safety clicked off, already pointed at the eyes even while he was blinking and squinting to try and figure out what the _fuck_ was in here with him. The eyes suddenly disappeared, and now he had no idea where the hell the thing was. A surge of adrenaline sharpened his vision, and just as he was taking the slack out of the trigger and preparing to fire on a last known position, he was able to see Kala staring at him in shock. She was standing near the foot of the bed, a glass of water in her hand. "Jay?!" she squeaked.

"Somethin' over there," he snapped, sitting up with his heart racing. How the hell could something get in without Kala hearing it? She turned toward the threat, and the eyes were back…

…on the back of her panties, as a matter of fact. At some point she'd taken the shirt off, sleeping in just the panties, and without his shirt to cover her butt, the freakin' cat eyes glowed in the dark.

"Jesus fuck on a glowstick," he groaned, clicking the safety back on. "It's just your damn cat panties, K."

"_What?_" she said, turning back to stare at him.

Now that he wasn't freaking out over some fucking cryptid in his apartment, it was kinda funny, and Jay laughed. "The eyes glow in the dark, K. Looked like some kinda animal in here. I'm not really awake, y'know."

Kala crossed her arms. "And you went on alert because of that? You almost _shot me in the ass_ just because you saw a pair of glow-in-the-dark eyes?!"

At that thought, Jay felt laughter bubbling up inside. "Good thing I didn't. It'd be a crime to put a bullet in that sweet Kryptonian ass. Glow in the dark eyes and all." The look on her face made him lose it, and Jay was snorting and laughing uncontrollably. _Almost shot my own girlfriend in the dark. Forget the old thought-she-was-a-burglar excuse. Officer, I thought there was a glowing-eyed monster in here so I shot at it!_

He was laughing so hard that Kala eventually pounced on him in half-joking outrage, and they wrestled and tumbled around on the bed until Jay entirely forgot to laugh.

…

The boarding pass said 'Irena Dubrovna', and the woman carrying it had a passport and credit cards in that name as well. She gave the gate agent a charming smile as she boarded the early-morning British Airways flight from Metropolis International Airport to London Heathrow, then found her seat by the window. First class included coffee, breakfast, and an amenities bag from a luxury skincare brand. Her seat folded down to a flat bed, and they offered designer loungewear to snooze in. Not that she intended to do more than catnap on this flight.

She'd only be in London for three days, enough time to stop by a museum or two, and pay a visit to a particular privately-owned flat. She had to be careful, of course; the museums shouldn't even notice anything amiss until long after she'd flown home, taking advantage of British Airway's fancy new afternoon tea service at forty thousand feet. As for the flat, she didn't know when its owner would next stop in – this was something of a long shot, but if it worked out, she'd thoroughly enjoy it.

Touching down in London just as night fell, she borrowed a car from the rental agency and went to look up the address she'd found after much diligent searching – and a few pricey bribes. As she drove, she reflected that this was twice now that she'd traveled across the Atlantic to up the ante on their little competition. If it kept on, she'd have to keep things local; or expect her rival to do some traveling, too.

As a matter of fact, she was hoping the other woman was traveling right now. All anyone knew for sure was that she wasn't in Paris anymore, but Talia al Ghul was damn difficult to find. There was no evidence to indicate she was in London, but it'd be terrible luck if she turned out to be home for this visit. The woman calling herself Irena chuckled quietly; this was one time she _didn't_ want to play cat and mouse.

She scouted the location carefully, then took a hotel room a few blocks away. Once it was fully dark, she unpacked her luggage. Some of what she'd brought was mere camouflage, intended to make the baggage agents blush – or gossip about her, instead of wondering who might be traveling around with a catsuit and a bullwhip in her luggage. All it took was a couple of pairs of handcuffs, a blindfold, and a couple of other whips to make them draw all the wrong conclusions.

Some of her more esoteric accessories, she'd brought in her carry-on bag, but goggles and lock picks could be disguised. No one had questioned the little tubes tucked into her bag; the TSA set rules about how many ounces of liquid she could bring, not what kind they could be. In uniform, she opened the window and breathed in the night. The Irena identity was left behind in the hotel, and Catwoman set out across the roofs of London.

Selina cased the flat _very_ carefully. Standard security features, and then some decidedly non-standard ones as well. It took her a patient hour to bypass the sensors, cameras, and alarms, and finally step across the threshold, carefully navigating a series of tripwires and infrared beams designed to catch anyone who defeated the electronic system. Once in, she listened first, her nerves strung tight as few jobs ever managed to do, but the place sounded empty. It _felt_ empty, too, and she had a good sixth sense for that.

That was no excuse to slack off, and Selina tiptoed further into the flat, still on high alert. She decided she liked the furnishings; a definite sense of style, given to deep colors and interesting textures. It was a space she could've curled up in with one of the many books in shelves along the wall, and a cup of tea from the fine china in the kitchen.

Doing so would probably be _extremely_ dangerous, though, since Selina managed to find a weapon within reach of every seat in the place. The big armchair with an embroidered throw draped across it? That had a gun tucked into one arm, and half a dozen throwing knives in the other. There was a sword under the edge of the bar. And even in the bathroom, one of the vanity drawers was hermetically sealed to keep moisture away from the pistol and dagger hidden there. Selina shook her head; this looked more like paranoia than preparedness to her. Then again, assassins probably had a different idea of preparedness from almost anyone else.

She glanced in the bathroom and found a deep soaking tub alongside a shower stall with one of those fancy shower heads that sprayed from three different heights. On a rack to one side were high-end shampoo and conditioner, in a warm sort of amber and clove scent, and soaps and lotions that smelled of persimmons and spice. Just as she expected, every product in here was top of the line. Selina checked out the medicine cabinet, too, finding nothing much of interest, and took note of the face cream her target used.

In the end, she couldn't resist detouring to the bedroom, smirking a little at the tall four-poster bed frame with sheer curtains. _Very_ dramatic, and Selina sprawled across it, looking up to where the fabric gathered together at the ceiling. Very comfortable, too, and Selina murmured to herself, "This would be a bad time to pull a Goldilocks."

She stood up again, stretched, and padded out, detouring among the bookshelves. There were a few small objets d'art there, just the kind of priceless understated antiquities Catwoman had made a name for herself liberating and reselling, but in the end she decided not to steal anything from Talia al Ghul.

Leaving something behind was so much more fun, and had the benefit of being unexpected. Now she could conclude her other business in London, fly back to the States, and wait for her little addition to be discovered.

'Kanine Boot Kamp', indeed.

…

Steph kept herself glued to Cass' side when they went out. They weren't trying to infiltrate the main compound anymore, just gather whatever intelligence they could on the periphery. That grated on both of them, feeling useless when they _knew_ where Shiva was, but Steph had to admit that it was dangerous as hell to try and get close to her.

Disguises, at least, were easy; all they had to do was wear farrashia, the white silk covering that some older, traditional Libyan women still wore outside the home. It hid everything but their eyes, and with a little makeup to create the appearance of crows-feet, no one gave them more than a passing glance. Even other women, many of them dressed in Western-style clothes with hijabs that complimented their style, dismissed the pair as old-fashioned 'aunties'. Steph discovered that the light fabric seemed to help keep the sun's heat off her, too.

They didn't learn much in the markets, or by loitering near the coffee shops, but that seemed to mean that Shiva was keeping her people very quiet. Steph figured that was a good thing, since it meant less impact on the civilians. Most of the people here were just trying to live their lives, get an education, do their jobs, take care of their families, just like anywhere else. The conversations she eavesdropped on were mostly about dating, or work, or what had been on television the night before.

One or two, though, seemed more important. Hushed phrases that could be code words, men who automatically glanced towards the exits whenever they entered a room. It was tantalizing, but nothing concrete, nothing to hint at what Shiva was actually _doing_.

Cass believed her mother was trying to take over the _whole_ League of Shadows. Steph wondered about that. Why would Shiva want it? Power and prestige, of course, but the way Cass talked about her mother, Shiva wasn't prone to that kind of self-aggrandizing behavior. She was a lone wolf more than a leader.

The daily check-ins to Babs were frustrating, having to tell her they had nothing new. She praised them for their caution, and noted that the refugee camps they'd left seemed to have stabilized. Whatever was going on in Libya, the radical factions Shiva had displaced had apparently been absorbed into other organizations, or neutralized. Steph had been glad at first, until Cass had looked at her and gravely shaken her head. "What's bad about them knocking off all the violence?" she'd asked.

"Under the Demon's command," Cass had replied solemnly. And yeah, that would explain why things had quieted down. If Ra's al Ghul had noticed trouble brewing and brought the rebellious factions to heel, it might mean he was headed here to confront Shiva.

Both of them tended to think in terms of Ra's. At the moment, he was far away from them, in one of his estates in Manchuria. Little though Steph and Cass knew it, they _did_ have problems close by, and with someone who'd also figured out the trick of using a farrashia for disguise.

_Very_ close by. Cass had been watching a cafe where one of Shiva's men was playing chess, wondering if the meeting was what it appeared to be, or something more. Steph had gone up to a stall nearby selling desserts to pick up some magrood. The date-filled cookies had quickly become one of Steph's favorites, but the seller was out of them, so she got ghreyba with almonds instead.

If she'd had any idea that Talia al Ghul had been there ten minutes ago and bought the last of the magrood, Steph's reports to Babs would've gotten a _lot_ more interesting.


	2. Told Before and Told Again

Sebast woke up ungodly early in the guest bedroom he'd taken to sleeping in, which was usually Ned's, and realized that tomorrow was Kala's birthday. It hit him like a fist in the gut, and he laid there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, feeling utterly and miserably alone. He'd been at every one of her birthday parties since she turned fifteen, from the big parties at home with her whole family, to the times on the road when they'd just had a cake on the tour bus.

Part of him wanted to run to the airport, buy a plane ticket, and show up to the tour with a cake and a card and an apology. Most of him knew a simple apology wasn't going to cut it, at this point.

Still, he had the tour itinerary saved in his phone. He could at least mail her the present he'd bought for her back in August, and kept hidden away here. Kala was bad about snooping for presents, despite being outraged if anyone _else_ did it, and so he'd hidden the small box in the one place she'd never look: her own closet.

The moment he opened the door, he smelled her perfume on her clothes, a breath of candied violets faint and sweet, and he caught himself, gripping the jamb. It was like burying his face in Kala's shoulder after a long day, and right then he'd've given his left hand just to have her put her arms around him and pat his shoulder and mock him gently for tiring so soon. Sebast squeezed his eyes shut, and those were _not_ tears. It was just some dust in the closet.

He opened them again, and the first thing he saw was one of his own shirts. Sebast laughed weakly; you knew Kala loved you if she stole your clothes. He'd seen her wearing enough of his shirts and jackets to find it charming, and sometimes she slept in his dress shirts. That was a good look on her, and when he'd teased her about it, she'd told him it was like a hug she could wear all night.

"Mi Kala," Sebast sighed, and pushed the shirts aside. In the back of the closet were stacks of shoe boxes, and he searched through them for the pair of summer sandals in which he'd hidden her gift. She _might_ get crafty enough to look around the top of her closet, currently a jumble of spare pillows, folded blankets, and at least one velvet top hat, but Kala would never think to look among the shoes, and the sandals wouldn't get worn until next spring.

He found the right shoebox, opened it, and found the small wrapped box inside. A tiny thing, really, but he'd thought he could pick up a couple more bigger, splashier gifts before the day arrived. This, though, this had spoken Kala's name to him when he saw it in a store window. A big flashy necklace had caught his eye, something neither of them would wear, but right below it had been this: a silver ring in the design of a peacock, the fanned tail across the top of the finger with small sapphires as its feathers, the bird's head wrapped around, its eye a tiny ruby. Kala liked to tease him, calling him a vain Goth peacock, and the bird looked a little smug somehow.

Sebast had gone in, found out it was even in Kala's ring size, and bought it on the spot. It hadn't been cheap, a custom one of a kind design, but he had the money, and where else was he gonna spend it?

Now he looked at the tiny box and felt a wave of melancholy. Even in August, things were already getting weird between them, but he remembered the delight he'd felt picking out the ring, and how he'd looked forward to giving it to her. Kala would love it, it was just the kind of in-joke she'd appreciate, and the beauty of it would appeal to her, too. He'd found it hard to wait for her birthday, wanting to give it to her early so he could see the look on her face when she saw it.

As he stared at the box, reminiscing, a new thought floated across his mind. _You bought her a ring._

Sebast frowned, wondering, and the thought came back insistently. _This would've confused her even more. No wonder __**you're**__ confused. You went and bought the girl a __**ring**__. Not diamonds, but close enough. What else would everyone think?_

All of a sudden rage swept over him. It hadn't been a ring like _that_, it had just been a gift, something beautiful for his favorite girl. Why the fuck did everyone expect more, _demand_ more, until he and Kala couldn't find their own way under the weight of everyone else's opinions of their relationship? Why couldn't he just buy her a piece of pretty jewelry without second-guessing himself? And why the hell was he so damn miserable now wishing he'd given it to her before? Would that have turned the tide somehow, would it have changed things?

In miserable frustration, Sebast flung a punch at the wall, not caring if it hurt. At least that pain was something he could _do_ something about. What was inside, chewing up his heart, couldn't be touched with bandages and painkillers.

To his immense shock, his fist went right through the back wall of Kala's closet, as if it was only the thickness of cardboard.

…

Kala woke up when her phone buzzed, and tried to be careful moving to answer it, but Jay stirred anyway. When she saw whose name was on the screen, he must've felt the sudden tension in her body, because he woke up all the way. She sat up, easing away from him. It didn't feel right to take this call with his arms around her. He blinked sleep from his eyes and looked at her, and Kala tried to hold herself together. "It's Sebast," she said in a small voice, and Jay nodded, sitting up beside her.

Kala took a deep breath, and answered the call. "Hi," she said softly.

"Hi," Sebast said, and his voice sounded … strange. "Where are you?"

"Portland," Kala lied miserably.

"Sure you are," Sebast said with a low chuckle.

"Sebast…" she pleaded.

"No, you know what, let's not start like that," he said suddenly. "Hi. I miss you. We said a lot of shit to each other the last time I saw you, but it doesn't mean I miss you any less."

"I miss you too," she whispered, acutely conscious of Jay sitting beside her. His apartment was quiet enough that he was probably hearing both sides of the conversation.

"Then how about you tell me the truth, huh?" He sounded more cajoling than accusatory, and Kala bit her lip. Not this again.

"I told you about Jay," she replied.

"Not about him," Sebast continued. "About the rest of it. Tell me the truth about everything, Kala."

A horrifying thought leapt into her mind, and she gave a laugh that sounded and felt like a sob. "Sebast, I don't know the truth about _everything_."

"Everything about _you_ then."

Again, she bit her lip, her heart pounding. Part of her wanted to just throw all of it at him, part of her was afraid of what Jay would think, what he was already thinking, and part of her wanted to hang up the phone and hide under the pillows for about a year. "Sebast, no more games. Tell me what you want."

"Well, I started out this morning wanting to give you the birthday present I bought you back in August," Sebast said, in a horrible attempt at joviality. Kala flinched, thinking of the present she'd given Jay that same month, and Jay reached out to touch her back. She flinched again from the contact, and he subsided, waiting. Sebast continued, "So I went into your closet where I hid it, because you're terrible about gifts, querida, and I knew you wouldn't look there. Is this giving you a hint? Something you wanna tell me, Kala?"

"Sebast," she whimpered, her throat constricted, her heart trying to pound out of her chest. The old Blur uniform was in the back of her closet, hidden behind a false panel, and he had to have found it somehow. _I should've thrown it out, it's too cut-up to pass for regular clothes, I should've thrown it out, oh my God how could I be so stupid… _

"Tell me," Sebast said quietly. "I'd rather you tell me than me have to drag it out of you. C'mon, Kala."

She took a deep breath, let it out shakily, her whole body trembling on the verge of tears. "I'm the Blur," she finally squeaked, and heard Jay gasp beside her.

A pause, and Sebast said in more normal tones, "Thank you. That explains a lot."

Kala sat there, her knees drawn up, curled over them and focused on just breathing. In a way, this reminded her of the time she'd broken her arm. Being a goofy little kid, jumping out of a swing and trying to fly, then landing to a _snap_ more felt than heard and thinking for a few minutes that it couldn't be that bad. Could it? And then the pain came, and she'd screamed, and eventually Mom had had to explain to the school why Superman had flown down for a little girl's broken arm.

Now she was hanging in that cold hollow moment between the break, with her secret finally out, and the inevitable pain that followed.

Sebast sighed in her ear. "You're not Superman's god-daughter, are you? You're his _daughter_. Madre de Dios, Kala, that's a _big_ fucking secret to keep from me."

"I know," she whimpered, and here was the pain, right here as her heart broke, because surely he'd stay away now that he knew. She wasn't even fully human…

"Eight years, mi Kala. We've lived together the last three and a half. I cut my hair when we were sixteen, and I had boys writing poetry about it, all so your brother could sneak on a plane and go save your ass – and Elise knows, doesn't she? Things changed with her and Jason after that New Year's. We've been together through _everything_, I hold you after your nightmares and you hold me up when my parents are assholes. You steal my clothes and I steal your food and we watch bad horror movies after every breakup. And _all this time_, you never thought to tell me? What, you didn't trust me, you thought I'd run to the newspapers or something?" He laughed bitterly. "Is that what it is?"

"No, Sebast, I know you better than that," Kala said desperately.

"Do you?" he asked softly. "Do I know you? At all?"

Hot tears forced their way between her lashes, her eyes tightly closed. "I didn't think you'd tell. I thought you'd _leave_."

"Little late for that now, isn't it, Kala?" Sebast said softly.

She caught her breath on a sob, scrunching herself down into a tight little ball of misery. "Sebast, please … I wanted to, but we don't tell _anyone_."

"Oh yeah? What about your boyfriend, does _he_ know?" he asked sharply.

Kala made a small, horrified noise. If she said _no_, she'd be lying, and she couldn't lie to Sebast anymore. But if she said _yes_, she'd have to explain _why_ he knew, and that meant giving up Jay's identity. She couldn't do that, ever.

Sebast just laughed. "Why am I not surprised?"

"It's not what you think," Kala protested desperately. "I don't tell anyone, I never have. He just … I can't do this, Sebast."

A beat of silence, in which she feared she'd said too much, and Sebast continued quickly, "Does your sister know? What about your stepmom and stepdad?"

"Of course Kristin doesn't know, she's just a kid," Kala told him, her voice hollow and strained. "Lana and Daddy Richard … they found out when I was six, and Luthor kidnapped us to get to Dad. There was no way to hide it when my brother and I were on a kryptonite island, Sebast. My Dad jumped out of an airplane, after he got stabbed saving us, after getting _shot_ saving Mom, he jumped out of Daddy Richard's plane and went and lifted a whole _island_ of kryptonite out of our atmosphere. No, Sebast, no one told them, they watched it happen and kinda picked things up as they went along. Hell, no one ever told _me and Jase_, we figured it out ourselves. Mom kept it a secret and lied to everyone about who our father was, made everyone think she'd gotten knocked up by a one-night stand in Paris, because the _minute_ Luthor figured out there was a chance we were Superman's, he took us both for _bait_."

Sebast fell quiet, and Kala heard Jay whisper, "Jesus _fuck_."

She went on, with the secret out between them it was like pulling the sluice gates on a dam, and everything she'd wished she could've told Sebast came pouring out. "My aunts and uncles don't know, my cousins don't know, _Uncle Perry_ doesn't know and that's one hell of an exclusive, isn't it? The only person who was ever _told_ was Nana, and only because she'd watched us developing superpowers. She knew, and she was furious with Mom and wasn't going to go along with the story Mom told everyone else because it wasn't fair to that nice young man in the City department, so they _had_ to tell her. Nobody else was ever told, Sebast, but I … I've wanted to tell you every day for years. Especially after Nevada."

More silence, from Sebast. "Jesus, woman, and I thought I had the whole story."

"You had more of it than anyone outside the immediate family," Kala replied. "I told you as much as I could. I told you the truth about Dru-Zod, but I never told you that when I pulled the trigger on that kryptonite gun, I fully expected to die with him. I almost did. I'm vulnerable to kryptonite."

She'd only told Sebast that much because he woke her up from nightmares, and the Schecter story wouldn't fly with him. She'd told him to keep it a secret because the world didn't need to know that General Zod had lived a couple years longer than everyone thought, and he'd agreed.

Sebast swore quietly. "Kala … no matter where we go from here, I'm glad you didn't."

It was her turn to laugh bitterly. "Why? So I could fuck up your life?"

"No, estupida, I like the world with you in it," Sebast said, a flare of anger in his voice.

Kala sighed shakily. "I'm sorry, Sebast. I kept it from you so you'd be _safe_. Everyone who knows is a target for people like Luthor."

"Yeah, well … what am I supposed to do with this, Kala? I mean shit, my best friend is half Kryptonian, what the _fuck_?" She could see him in her mind's eye giving that huge shrug, that summed up the total inability to deal with the massive heap of bullshit she'd dumped on him.

"You wanted the truth," was all Kala could say.

Sebast managed a rusty-sounding chuckle. "I did. Kala … I don't know where this leaves us. I don't even know if there is an 'us' still. But … thank you. For telling me."

Kala nodded, the tears tracking down her face, and realized he couldn't see that. "You deserved it. You've deserved it for a long time."

"Yeah," he sighed. "I'm gonna go. Take care of yourself."

That sounded more final than the door he'd slammed behind him. She held the phone until the line went dead, then dropped it to the comforter. She wasn't expecting their usual exchange of 'I love yous' but for him to click off without even a goodbye? That left her feeling horrible, and terribly alone.

Jay was right beside her, looking at her worriedly, but Kala dropped her head to her knees and huddled in on herself as the sobs began.

…

Jay had listened to the call with mounting worry. Kala sounded incredibly strained, and he was hearing most of Sebast's half of the call, too. He would've expected outrage from him, defensiveness from her, a lot of yelling and cursing … but it had all been bleak and sorrowful. When he signed off, Kala curled up to cry, and Jay tugged her into his lap.

No super-powered heroine here, this was just a girl whose best friend had probably broken things off forever. Jay had no words of wisdom for her, so he just held her while she wept, rubbing her back. Kala clung to the shirt he'd worn to bed, and Jay didn't even care that she was getting him all snotty again.

She finally came up for air with a gasp of, "Goddammit, I _hate_ crying, I'm gonna have such a headache."

Jay patted her back. "Yeah, but you might as well get it out. That sounded heavy, K."

"It was," she replied bleakly.

He nodded. Jay's options for dealing with major emotional upheaval were pretty limited. "You wanna talk about it, or you want me to bring the scotch and drink enough that you can forget for a while?"

Kala gave him a wan smile. "Running away's done me so much good so far, right? Hell, bring the scotch anyway. First things first, though, I gotta call Babs. And my mom. Our identities are blown. _Shit_."

Jay left her to it, paying no attention to the first brief conversation with Babs. He came back to the bed with two glasses and the bottle just in time to hear Kala say, "It _is_ my fault, Momma. I'm sorry. I'm so damn sorry."

He could make out Lois' voice on the other end of the line, saying brusquely, "The hell it is. He was gonna find out somehow, Kala, and at least he's not running to the press. I'll let your father and Jason know."

"Yeah, Jase is gonna be even more thrilled with me now," Kala said dejectedly. "I love you, Momma."

Jay had poured her a glass by the time she signed off, and Kala drank it straight down without a thought. Which, even knowing what he knew about Kryptonian metabolism, still struck him as worrisome. No sane person knocked back the equivalent of five shots of scotch in one swallow, and Kala didn't even cough.

She just looked up at him, miserable, and Jay said, "It's not your fault. What the hell was he doing in your closet, anyway?"

"Getting my birthday present," she replied in a small voice.

"I heard that part, but why would he hide it in your closet? Or in your room, even? When was he at your house long enough to even do that?" Jay was just casting around for some way to absolve her, but Kala looked steadily more frightened by his questions, so he stopped and asked, "Kala, what is it?"

She sighed, and rubbed a hand over her face. "Oh, fuck, why am I not surprised? He's right, I'm too good at this. I never mentioned it? Everything we've told each other, and I didn't say that?"

He tilted his head and stared at her. "Mentioned what?"

Kala groaned and held out the glass. "Oh, fuck my life. Of course, I didn't." Jay poured, less this time, and Kala said, "Pour yourself one, I think this is gonna get ugly."

"Oh, great," Jay said philosophically, and poured a measure. "Go on, hit me."

They both drank, and Kala said flatly, "It's not just my house. It's his house, too."

Jay could only stare. "You own a _house_ with the guy?"

She cringed. "We both got our advances from the label, and property in Metropolis is really expensive. So we pooled our money and bought a house with a garage already wired up like a workshop, where the band could play."

Jay sat back, thinking. "Okay, yeah. That makes sense."

Kala held her glass out again, and when he poured her another shot, she just looked at him until he doubled it. She drank, he drank, and Kala said, "So … property is _expensive_. The house is a two-bedroom, and we have three other people in the band. Morgan lives in Metropolis but we have Ned and Robb, so we turned the living room into another bedroom, but that's still only three beds."

"Coulda gone bunk beds," Jay teased.

She laughed sadly. "The thing is … we're on the road all the time. And we had sleepovers at each other's houses before that. There's not a lot of room on the bus, and in the beginning, we were trying to save on hotel rooms. So … Sebast and I have been sleeping in the same bed pretty much every night for the last five years or so."

_That_ was a revelation, and as soon as she spoke, Kala winced. Jay's first reaction was to yell, but he stamped down hard on it. She'd said _sleep_, not significant-quotes 'sleep', and the guy was gay enough to try picking Jay up at the one concert he'd gone to. "Okay," he finally said. "I guess that's why he noticed you were gone, huh? Kinda hard to miss when you're sleeping here instead of in the hotel."

She looked hopeful. "Which is why I had to leave, most of the time, and I never wanted to, Jay."

"Hold up," he said, and poured himself more scotch, knocking it back quickly. "You flew here, fucked me, flew back, and slept with him. I _get_ it, that's not an entirely accurate summary, but it's not untrue either. And that needs more alcohol to process, y'know?"

Kala seemed to shrink in on herself. "I never lied to you."

"Yeah, but that's a significant omission," Jay said. "Jesus _fuck_, Kala. Okay, okay, hang on, I'm dealing with it."

His girl, in someone else's bed. His girl in someone else's arms. His girl probably waking up with someone else's morning wood poking her in the hip, and yeah, no, derail that train of thought right now. Jay sighed and stretched his neck 'til it popped, trying to get the initial caveman reaction under control. She hadn't been dating the guy or anything, he _was _pretty damn gay, there was no reason to blow up at her. "So, he was in your bedroom 'cause it's your room. Is it his closet, too?"

"No, we have separate closets, but he _knows_ me. I'd be looking through his closet for my present if we were home. I'm an asshole that way." Kala shook her head. "It drives me nuts when Mom does it, but now that I'm not at home, I do it too."

"Well, no sense looking around here, 'cause no one told me your birthday was coming up," Jay said. "Fuck, I gotta figure out what to get you. I guess I should thank him, I wouldn't even know if this hadn't happened. Or until Babs called me the morning of and snarked at me for being dumb."

She reached out and caught his hand, looking at him hopefully. "If you wanna give me a present, Jay, just listen to me."

He turned his hand over in hers and gripped her fingers. "I am listening. But I still gotta pay you back for the nice present you got me."

"Jay," Kala groaned, but it earned him the ghost of a smile, and he squeezed her hand.

"Maybe I'll put some music on and go full Chippendale. Nothing but a bow tie and a ribbon around my dick," he suggested, and Kala _did_ laugh then. It was a weak laugh, but better than the misery they were currently floundering through.

Jay sighed, and they sat in silence for a moment before Kala asked, "How pissed are you right now?"

"On a scale of one to feeding a drug dealer a whole magazine of lead? Eh, about a four," he lied. He _was_ a little pissed about the sharing a bed thing, and it was that trace of anger that made him add, "I mean, I thought I was done screwing around with married people when I crawled out of Talia's bed."

"Jay!" Kala yelped, her eyes hurt, and yeah, he felt like an asshole for that.

"C'mon, two people who own a house together, sleep in the same bed, and _don't_ have sex? That's most of America's definition of marriage," he tried to joke.

"We're not married," Kala insisted. "Hell, we both got _real_ pissed whenever his mom would drop hints. His family … they're in denial about him being gay. It's _extremely_ fucking annoying. Sebast was thinking about bringing home a boyfriend and making him an appetizer, just to make them _admit_ it, even if they threw him out for it."

"That's … a little extreme," Jay admitted.

"So is Sebast," Kala said. "It's not easy being gay, not even in arts school, and he went to regular middle school. It's not easy being gay and Latino, either. There's this whole machismo thing going on culturally, not to mention the Catholic thing. Add in a total lack of family support, and it sucks. You have to be tough to get through that. Too many kids don't. You know the statistics."

"Yeah, I do," Jay admitted.

"So no more jokes about being married, because we weren't. We _weren't_ in a relationship, either. We couldn't be. I'm not gonna be like those fangirls of ours who are always after him. It's gross, the way they chase him. One time, this little bitch came in for a photo op backstage, and when her friend took the shot, she grabbed his ass. I mean _grabbed_, not patted, she grabbed a handful and squeezed. I think he leaped four feet in the air. I had security throw her out, the same way I would've done to a guy who did it to me."

"As it should be," Jay said.

Kala shook her head. "He's off limits, I always knew that. Hell, you wanna know the first thing he ever said to me, on the first day of ninth grade? He sat down near me and Elise in … social studies, I think, and looked at us, and fuck, you like boys, you know he's gorgeous. And he smiled at us both and said, 'Hello, ladies, do you like a handsome man with an accent?' And Elise wasn't dating Jason yet, she was just my friend then, and both of us kinda laughed and said, 'Yeah.' And Sebast grinned like the devil and said, 'Great, so do I, we have something in common.' Which pretty much slammed the door on _that_ forever."

"Shit, that's ballsy," Jay said, unable to help a little laugh. That fit right in with his stage persona, and the way he'd made eye contact with Jay at the concert. Arrogant as hell.

Kala nodded. "He's _ridiculously_ confident. He'd have to be, if he was any less cocky he would've been another statistic. Sebast got his ass kicked through most of middle school, and he decided if they were all gonna call him queer, he was gonna be _so_ queer he affected the planet's axial tilt or something."

Jay looked at her shrewdly, and hell, he _was_ a detective. "You liked that about him, didn't you? He walks up to two hot girls, introduces himself with a great line, and shuts you both down in a minute flat. You like that kind of arrogant asshole, K. I know you do, you're with me."

"I _am_ with you," she said, insistent, and he knew there was something else. "Have been since August, and I haven't been with anyone else."

"Good, 'cause neither have I," Jay replied. He couldn't resist prodding her for a reaction, and added, "Although Mary _has_ been bringing me a free extra pancake now and then. That's kind of a sweet deal."

"Mary's also old enough to be your mother," Kala shot back, and narrowed her eyes a little. "And I _hope_ you were done screwing your mother-figures when you crawled out of Talia's bed for the last time."

"Oh, shit!" Jay yelped, dropping his glass. Fortunately it was empty, and landed on the bed instead of the floor. "Fuck, Kala, that's not fucking fair! She's not my mom, goddammit!"

"She's married to your dad, isn't she?" Kala asked imperiously, and didn't wait for an answer. "I sure don't look at either of my step-parents like that, and neither of them were actually _married_ to one of my parents."

"Yeah, your step-parents are a bit more than seven years older than you," Jay shot back. "And she never lived with us or anything. It's not the same."

Kala tipped her head sideways. "So, you mean no one would look askance at _all_ if, say, Dick slept with Selina? I mean, no one's married, and they're not that far apart in age."

"Fucking hell," Jay said, and nipped scotch straight from the bottle. She had him cornered and he knew it. "Goddammit, fine, Dick would never go there and neither would Selina. Talia and I were both fucking _pissed_ at Bruce. And I mean, after that, you can't un-fuck somebody. Might as well say screw the taboos, if you're both consenting adults and you wanna be there, why not?"

Kala looked at him steadily, and then spoke in a small, controlled voice. "You were both pissed. Sebast and I were both drunk."

"Aw _fuck_," Jay groaned. If he'd had Sebast in front of him right now, he would've decked the guy. As it was, he _really _wanted to scream at Kala for this. "Hold on, that's a solid nine. Jesus _fuck_, Kala." He swigged scotch 'til his throat burned, trying to get it under control. It wasn't fucking fair, why did every woman he cared about have to have so much complicated shit going on?

"It was over a year ago," Kala said, her voice a little desperate. "Nothing even close to that has happened since. We were both drunk, he'd broken up with his boyfriend – the only guy he ever had a _relationship_ with – I wasn't with anyone, we were celebrating a sold-out show, we _literally_ felt into bed … and we had sex. Once. And never talked about it after, not even the next day. Now you know why I came to Gotham telling everyone I wasn't here to hook up. I wanted to train, I needed to train, but more than that, I needed to get him outta my head before I ruined everything." A sigh, as she looked away. "And I ruined everything anyway."

"You haven't ruined me yet," Jay said, mastering his temper. Knowing it had been a year ago, long before she met him, helped. "Although _shit_, that was mean, dropping that on me right after that about Talia."

"You sure I haven't ruined things with you?" she asked.

Jay pointed at her. "I'm not a _total_ asshole, all evidence to the contrary aside. What you did before I came along is irrelevant. Not like I asked you for a list of everyone you ever slept with. For a minute there I thought you were telling me you'd fucked him while we were together."

Kala blanched, her eyes huge. "_No!_ Oh my god, no! Jay, I'd never do that. I've made a lot of dumbass decisions but I wouldn't do _that_. I mean, I kissed him once when I was half-asleep, but I thought he was _you_ at the time!" Jay had never seen her look so wounded, not even when she was actually bleeding.

He took her hand, holding it tight. "I know, K, that's why I hit the scotch, I wouldn't think you'd go there – but you were acting like it was the worst secret you have."

"I didn't know what you'd say," she pointed out. "All this is as normal as breathing for me, it's the way things have always been with him and me, even when I was seeing someone else. But I was still sleeping in the same bed with him when you came along, Jay, and the look on your face when I said that means I had to tell you about our drunk misadventure." Kala looked utterly miserable as she spoke, but she was trying to be honest.

"I get it, that's apparently normal enough for you that you didn't mention it," Jay replied, still thinking. Trying to think his way through or around knee-jerk reactions, because shit, Kala was already heartbroken thanks to that call and beating herself up about it. He didn't need to kick her while she was down. And it mattered that she was telling him the truth, even though she knew it would piss him off. He'd never gotten around to asking Talia if she was seeing Bruce at the same time they were hooking up – Jay knew he probably wouldn't have liked the answer.

In the end, he sighed. Kala had a lot of guts, being this honest. And he'd always liked her honesty and her courage. "I mean, I don't have a baseline for what best friends do. I've only ever had like school friends and superhero friends, y'know? Not like I was bringing kids home to Wayne Manor for sleepovers."

"Most people have a same-sex best friend, anyway," Kala sighed. "The closest thing I have to that is Elise, and she's sleeping with my brother. _Not_ going there."

Jay smirked. "Yeah, no, can't let anyone collect the set. Besides, in your case, even if your best friend was a chick it wouldn't be any different. Well, it _shouldn't_ be, but most guys like the idea of bringing in the girlfriend's best friend for a threesome. It's kinda the ultimate dude fantasy, but for a whole lotta sexist bullshit reasons, it's different when it's a guy."

"Most men _would_ be pissed about this with Sebast," Kala admitted. "Not that I usually care what most people think, but … your opinion matters. This is just how it's been. I can't change the past, and most of it, I wouldn't. I can only do things differently in the future."

"Fuck what other people think, this is you and me," Jay said, making his decision. "Look, I've been with people who keep secrets, K, and you're not one. You don't do shit out of malice. And the list of people you slept with is probably shorter than mine, and for better reasons."

Kala smiled wanly at him, and held up her fist, raising one finger as she spoke each name. "All civilians. Nick, the college guy, we both knew it was just for fun and couldn't last. Dustin, from Smallville, he's kind of an old family friend and Jase's best friend. I can't be a small-town mechanic's wife, and he can't live on the road like I do. We tried, twice. Alan, another singer – too self-centered, big mistake, very short-term. See, they weren't all good reasons. Marlene, my tour manager, we kept it on the down-low so the label wouldn't realize she was fooling around with the talent. Sebast, once. And you."

Jay sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. "You know about all the important ones, the ones that lasted a while. There's a bunch of clients whose names I never knew and whose faces I don't remember. And some one-night stands, mostly women, a couple guys. I don't remember their names, either. I used protection _religiously_."

"I've seen you pull condoms out of damn near everything you own, Jay, I figured about the protection," Kala pointed out.

"So yeah. No room for me to judge. But _shit_, that's complicated."

She reached for the scotch, and he handed it over. Kala poured herself a shot and knocked it back. "You're telling me. Just … you're not a home-wrecker or anything, Jay."

He scoffed. "Yeah, well, if he makes you cry like that again, I'll wreck his home with him still in it."

Kala managed a watery laugh. "Don't, please, the insurance is already a bitch and it'll get worse if I file a claim."

…

"Thanks, Oracle," Jason said, and put down the phone. He flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling for a moment, then pulled the pillow out from underneath his head and ripped it violently into two pieces. "_Goddammit!_"

Elise, who'd woken up when the phone rang, found herself spitting feathers. "Great choice of displacement, Superstud," she said dryly. "What is it now?"

More feathers drifted around the room, and Jason growled under his breath, twisting the torn pillow cover in his hands. "My idiot sister wasn't content with potentially breaching our identities by letting herself get filmed trying to suck Jason Todd's soul out of his face. Oh, no. Now _Sebast_ knows. He found her old uniform and mask, there's no denying it, he knows she's Blur and that means he probably knows about me and Dad. And if he's smarter than Kala, which I'm starting to think most people are, he'll figure out that she's not just hooking up with a Wayne boy, she's been screwing around with Red Hood. And then there goes everyone else's identities." He sat up again, and tore the twisted fabric into more pieces. "She's being such a _moron_. And all of us have to pay for it. _Fuck_."

Elise knew perfectly well that her husband rarely said that word, not even in bed. Jason seemed to be molding himself even more in his father's image as he grew up, and living in Smallville had affected his speech patterns, too. So she sat up and put a gentle hand on his arm. "Hey, it sounds like she's more in love than stupid. You're right, this is way too much risk, but it's _Sebast_. He's been around as long as I have. Maybe he deserves to know."

"And he's real pissed at Kala now for hiding things from him," Jason muttered. "It's too big a risk. I wasn't even that happy about _you_ finding out, remember."

Elise elbowed him lightly. "Hey, you'd have to tell me eventually. I mean I'd _notice_ that you can pick me up one-handed. And I'm really glad I knew these kids were a quarter Kryptonian before now."

"I would've told you before we got married," Jason said, relaxing a little. "You probably would've figured it out anyway. But Sebast and Kala aren't married."

"No, but they're the most important person in each other's lives, outside of family," Elise told him. "I don't think he'll go to the press. And even if he does, we'll handle it somehow. I mean, no one would ever guess your dad's identity, because why would Superman be _Clark Kent_ of all people? No one's ever gonna believe that Superboy owns a farm in Kansas."

He made an irritated noise, and flung the covers back. "I need to go out for a bit. First let me get the vacuum and clean this up, but … I need to hit something hard enough to feel like it matters."

Elise nodded. "Just don't mess up the _whole_ meteor shower, okay?"


	3. Tu Dimelo

Those moments would be graven in Sebast's memory forever, the curiosity followed by confusion. When his hand went through the false wall, Sebast had blinked, and then shied back from something soft. It wasn't moving – he'd thought of some horror movie he'd seen as a kid, rats and spiders in the walls – and shoved that image aside to feel around again. Just fabric of some kind.

Why was there cloth behind the closet? What had the former owners hidden back there? Sebast had latched on to the mystery as an anodyne for his heartache, and looked around for a hidden catch. Not finding one, he'd tugged at the hole he'd made, pulling off pieces of thin, friable wood.

Eventually he'd made a hole big enough to shine a flashlight into, so he went and got one. And then frowned, because this wasn't some secret from the previous owners of the house. He _knew_ that corset the moment he saw it, Kala had worn it on stage often enough. The pants looked familiar, too. But why would she hide an outfit in the back of her closet?

Why did she have a hidden compartment in her closet at all?

He'd shone the flashlight all around the little space, and when it stopped on the black domino mask hanging up above the corset, the truth had hit him. Sebast had heard ringing in his ears, aware of every breath, suddenly remembering every time she'd gone out early and come back with breakfast from no restaurant or food truck he'd ever found without her. All the times she'd snuck away from the band, and he'd heard something about the Blur on the news later.

The realization had been so huge, the only thing he could think to do was call her. And that had gone … better than expected. No yelling at each other, at least, and he got some answers. But just from her tone Sebast could tell that she dreaded what she was saying, and feared what he'd do next. Did she really think he'd go _public_ with it?

No, despite certain stupid decisions, Sebast figured Kala wasn't that dumb. So she was afraid that he'd never speak to her again.

Which was an admittedly attractive option. Cut all contact with her family and just walk away. No superheroes and aliens complicating his life, he had enough trouble with normal humans who didn't speed around in masks.

Sebast groaned. He didn't know how the hell to fit this new knowledge into his brain, but luckily, he knew at least one person who probably did. Looking through his contacts, he dialed the number without thinking about the time.

Elise's voice, when she answered, sounded awake already. "Hi, Sebast. What's up?"

He frowned, looking at the clock. "I … Sorry, I was gonna apologize for waking you, but you sound all chipper already."

"Mad scientists keep weird hours. C'mon, Sebast, at this time of night I know you're not calling to see if I wanna grab dinner next time you're in Kansas. What is it?" Her voice sounded affectionate, but a little wary, and he should've expected that.

"Do you know?" Sebast asked, and when she hesitated he plunged on, "And if you do know, then you know what I'm asking. If you don't, then both twins are crazy for keeping it a secret. So lemme rephrase that, Elise, do you _know_?"

His emphasis made the meaning plain, and she sighed heavily. "Hang on. I have to call you back on the secure line. One minute?" He agreed, and waited, and she rang him back from the landline. Elise launched immediately into their original conversation. "Yeah, Sebast. I know. I found out when Luthor tried to kill me and Jason. Kinda hard to hide it when you're running for your life."

He was quiet for a long moment, trying to figure out what to say, what to ask. What to _do_. "So you've known since we were sixteen that the two of them are Supers. And you know Kala is the Blur."

Elise's breath whistled. "Okay, fine, yeah. She's Kala Kal-El, she's Superman's daughter. Have you even thought about what that _means_, Sebast?"

"That she's fuckin' lied to me about everything since the day we met," he said bleakly.

"_No_, you short-sighted dickweed, pull your head outta your ass for a minute," Elise told him angrily. "This isn't about you, or me. You know what happened in Nevada? What _really_ happened?"

"Luthor took her," he began.

"Not because she was Superman's daughter. Because she speaks fluent Kryptonese," Elise said sternly, cutting him off. "Because Luthor stole the memory crystals from Superman's Fortress of Solitude _years_ ago, when those two were only like five years old, and there's twenty-eight galaxies' worth of information on those. _Including highly advanced alien weapons technology_. Luthor's been trying to crack it for years, he probably _still_ is, but back then he needed someone who can speak their language properly, and a human larynx just _can't_. You know he had General Zod there?"

"She told me she killed him. Kala still has nightmares about Zod," Sebast said, feeling a tremor start up in his bones. Hearing her lost and frightened voice after those nightmares had made that man a figure of terror for Sebast as well. Most people didn't know about Zod's involvement, the public didn't need to find out that a genocidal maniac had lived longer than he should've, but Kala had woken up crying that name in tones of horror too often for Sebast not to find out he'd part of the whole mess in Nevada.

"Yeah, Luthor faked Zod's death and broke him out of prison so he could unlock the weapons tech. And Zod _refused to do it_. He was crazy, but not _that_ crazy. He lied and told Luthor only a descendant of the House of El – someone of Superman's bloodline – could do it. So Luthor planned to take _Jason_. That's why Giselle was there. The minute he agreed to go off with her and her bitch mother, they would've taken him."

"I can't believe I believed that lying little cunt for a second," Sebast whispered.

"Yeah, but she had us all fooled," Elise said. "Giselle was a pro. She played us all – and she paid for it in the end. Luthor had her killed before she could talk. She didn't intend to make Kala run away, she just hated her. Because she was interfering in the plan, and because she was a bitch to Giselle. In the long run, it's probably a good thing Kala got taken, because they were prepared for Jason – and they got the twin they _weren't_ prepared for."

"Madre de Dios," Sebast murmured, sitting down. This was utterly surreal, hearing this kind of heavy shit about his girl. About Kala, who always cut her toast diagonally and couldn't stop herself from mouthing the lyrics when she listened to music. The girl he knew who, when she was _really_ tired, slept in a flattened sprawl they both teasingly called 'the roadkill position'. Kala who got practically apoplectic whenever they saw a grocery sign that used apostrophes for plurals. "Holy fuck, Elise."

"Holy fuck is about right. I'm not even done." She let out a sigh like a bellows, and he could almost see her pressing her free palm to her forehead in frustration. "So yeah. Luthor got Kala. Did she tell you she was almost gang-raped on day one?"

Sebast swallowed. He'd heard that … and understood murder. If he could have gotten his hands on any man that had tried that with Kala, he'd do his best to end the bastard's life. "I know that's in her nightmares, too," he said, his voice thick.

"Do you know all of it? Do you know Zod was the one who saved her? Do you know she and Zod conspired against Luthor together? Do you know Zod basically brainwashed her, because guess what, Sebast, _Kala is the only living female Kryptonian_. Zod had _plans_. He was gonna let Luthor kill Lois and Superman and Jason, then kill Luthor himself, and set off to rule the fucking planet all over again – with Kala by his side. _That's_ what she has nightmares about, Sebast. Kala Dru-Zod, Empress of Earth."

Sebast had no words for that, just a dry squeak. Kala had been carrying all _this_? For all this time? She'd only told him the bare minimum, not all the horrifying implications.

Elise didn't stop, though. "And when she figured out he was using her, _Kala killed him_. Did you know that, Sebast? She killed General Zod, and she meant to kill herself, too. The weapon she used leaked enough kryptonite radiation to have killed her. If Jason hadn't been there to pry her out, and Kal-El hadn't taken her up to supercharge in the sun, she would've died. That's what _Jason_ has nightmares about. Not saving her in time, busting into that weapons locker and finding his sister already dead. The same way he has nightmares about his hand slipping when he and their dad fished her out of the ocean."

Sebast hadn't guessed, until Kala had told him just moments ago. He knew she'd killed Zod, but not that she meant to go out with him. It had been hard enough all these years to believe she'd actually killed a man. His Kala, who was always trying to go vegetarian because she loved animals so much? Kala who caught lizards and moths and even fuckin' _spiders_ and took them outside the house, rather than kill them? _She_ killed a man? Not just a man, either, a villain with all of Superman's powers, one whose name was still spoken with caution and dread. It didn't make sense, though she had no reason to lie, and he'd always assumed she'd acted out of fear. Now, it sounded more ruthless, a calculating decision – and one she hadn't meant to live with. _That_ recent revelation still sent chills down his back. He could've lost her, and he wouldn't have ever known the truth.

Elise was still speaking. "And the reason the Blur hasn't been a household name until recently is because ever since Kala was six years old, she wanted to be Supergirl, and between Luthor and Zod they made her think she's too broken, too _dark_, to wear the S-shield. She saw Zod's plan for her and killed him because she thought it would've _worked_. So she wears a mask, and never sticks around for the press. She can't even spend time with her father or her brother when they're out saving the goddamn world, because it might blow their cover. She wanted so bad to be a hero, Sebast, and after Nevada she thought she wasn't good enough." Elise sounded on the verge of tears. "She only got back into it because Troia chewed her ass, and pretty much told her to get trained or get out. So Kala got trained, with the Bats, because they're the hardest of the hardcore. And guess what, Sebast? _She's good at this._ She can make a fucking _difference_ in the world. Who the hell are we to tell her she shouldn't do it?"

"I wouldn't tell her not to do it!" he insisted, because in all of this mess it was the only thing that rang true and clear and obvious. "Fuck, I'd be fucking _happy_ for her, you know how much shit is starting to make sense now that I fucking _know_? Jesus Christ, I coulda _helped_ her! But she never told me."

"No one told me," Elise said. "I found out because I would've died if Jason hadn't broken out the superpowers. And because Superman showed up when he yelled for 'Dad'. The only person who was ever _told_ was Lois' mother, and only because Ella Lane already knew Superman was their father when Lois started telling the world that Clark was their dad. He had to tell her the truth about himself."

Sebast squeaked again. The horror that Elise had been in danger – that _he _would've been in danger, if he'd gone, and not in danger of getting hurt or arrested, but of getting _killed_ – that had been swamped by the next truth bomb. Kala had mentioned that Ella was the only one who was ever told, but she'd hadn't said it the same way. The way that finally opened Sebast's eyes to the _other_ big damn secret floating around. Shock drove him almost to incoherence. "Wait, _what_? You mean _Clark_…? Oh, _shit_, of fucking _course_, I mean holy shitting fuck. Fuck. _Fuck!_ Elise I've hangin' out at Superman's house!"

"Yep, Superman makes great mac and cheese," Elise said dryly. "Get over it. You know the Blur, and Superboy, and Superman. You _also_ know a chick who's willingly pregnant with alien hybrid twins, and who has a top-secret lab installed under her barn. I work for the JLA. Sebast, be glad you weren't in it, because once you know, you'll never have a normal life again. _That's_ what Kala was trying to save you from. She thinks of you as her touchstone for _humanity_, Sebast. The way Lois is for Big Blue. She loves the hero life, but there's gotta be someplace to come home to after the crazy stuff is done for the day. Otherwise what's the point?"

Sebast could only sit there in shocked silence while the reality of it all sunk in. "Aw, fuck," he said, seeing all the decisions in a new light. Elise's choices, Kala's lies, even some of Jason's idiosyncrasies. "Is this why you ran from Jason for so long?"

"Yeah. You know how these assholes recruited me? Some chick named Oracle, who used to be Batgirl and is basically a god-tier hacker, had me _kidnapped_ and wired up for low-voltage electroshock. Not that I knew it was low-voltage at the time. She made me think I was being interrogated, to see if I'd give up Supes' identity. When I didn't, even after she zapped me, she offered me a _job_."

"Jesus, you actually took the job?" Sebast said.

"No, I told her to get fucked," Elise snapped. "And then the goddamned Batman consulted me on a chem question and roped me in anyway. That coulda been you, Sebast, sitting in what you were sure was an electric chair."

"Fuck, I woulda pissed myself," he muttered.

"I _did_," Elise laughed. "I mean, there's compensations. I commute to work with Jason's ex, who happens to be Wonder Girl. She flies a lot safer than Kala."

"Kala can fly," Sebast said, and suddenly realized how she was seeing a guy in Gotham while they were on tour out west. Still more pieces falling into place.

"Yep. The twins don't have the exact same powers as their dad, like Jason doesn't fly and Kala doesn't have as much strength, but they both have more than the public knows about. And by the way, do _not_ go on a flight with Kala, unless you wanna know what a fighter jet on meth would be like."

"Dunno if you noticed, but Kala and I are not exactly speaking," Sebast said quietly.

Elise scoffed. "Yeah, but she loves you. And you love her. And now you _know_. Like it or not, you're in on the secret now, and there's only a handful who know the truth. You, me, Richard, and Lana. We're the only ones who aren't heroes or villains. You can't un-know it. So I'm pretty sure you guys will sort things out eventually, if only so you can ask Clark why the hell he decided to be _Clark_, when he can be anyone."

That got a weak chuckle out of him. "I dunno, Elise. I said some shit I can't un-say. And … she's got this Jason Todd, now. Which, I guess I know who he really is, too." Sebast knew who the Blur was supposedly dating, Kala had joked lightly about her before – and now he knew why, just hiding in plain sight. He had read about the Blur in Gotham when they passed through the city, and seen who she worked with, and it didn't seem likely that Kala would work so closely with someone _and_ just happen to have a boyfriend in the same city.

"He's really Jason Todd," Elise said firmly. "Like she's really Kala. Don't get the person and the mask confused. They all have to pretend, Clark pretends to be clumsy and shy so no one would ever guess, but the people we've sat down to dinner with are who they really are. I mean, Superman and Superboy and the Blur are real, too, but they can't be them all the time. They can't live like that, full time. Even Wonder Woman has a secret identity. All of them need to be able to live in the world when they're not saving it. You still know Kala. She's wanted to be a rock star longer than she's wanted to be Supergirl."

"This guy knows both sides of her," Sebast said bleakly. "He's out there fighting beside her, and he saw her over the summer while she was doing publicity stuff for the band."

"No, he saw her when he was _training_ her. She did publicity stuff with Dick Grayson. Jason Todd never liked the limelight. Kala was supposed to be training with the Bats, but she got most of it with _him_. She didn't not pick up her phone because she was flirting, Sebast. She was too busy starving herself off sunlight – which Kryptonians need to live – to learn how to fight without her powers."

He closed his eyes, his heart aching. "She could've told me," he whispered. "I would've kept her secret."

"It's not just her secret," Elise said. "It's her father, and her brother. It's Wonder Girl and Red Hood and everyone out there in a cape."

Sebast blinked. If Jason Todd was Red Hood, then … there were three Wayne brothers, after all, and three male vigilantes who regularly worked with Batman. "Yeah … why do I get the feeling I know who a bunch of people in Gotham are, after hours?"

"Don't pull on that string," Elise warned. "I'm serious, Sebast. Yeah, once you know a couple of heroes you can figure out the rest, but you know what that gets you? A big fat target on your back. Luthor knows who I am. He knows whose kids I'm having. He's not in the country, Oracle is keeping watch and so is the JLA, but if someone wants to get to the Supers, I'm a damn good hostage. And if you let anybody know that _you_ know, the bad guys will come hunting you, too. You think you've figured out the Bats? Shit, Luthor scares me, but the Bats have _Joker_."

At that, Sebast crossed himself, a gesture he had never made outside of church – and he only let his mother drag him there for Easter and Christmas. "Fucking hell," he whispered.

Elise continued grimly, "Joker's only part of it. I work with the Bats. They have bad guys the media doesn't even know about, people who are smart enough to lay low and work from the shadows. You think you know what Kala spent her summer doing, Sebast? She's _fought_ Joker. And Harley Quinn, and Poison Ivy, and Scarecrow. And met someone whose name wouldn't mean anything to you, but who runs an international league of mercenaries and assassins." A short, brittle laugh. "_That_ one came to breakfast. Apparently Batman has trouble telling his friends from his enemies, if they look good in a catsuit."

"You're right, I don't want any of this shit," Sebast said hurriedly, before she could drop any more unwanted knowledge on him. "I just wanted my girl."

"Then you should've made a move," Elise said sharply. "She wanted to tell you, Sebast. I know she did, and she hates herself for lying. But they _all_ lie, to keep the people they love out of this crazy shit. Or they just hook up with other capes – and villains sometimes, Batman's not the only one with that problem. It's a goddamn lonely life, Sebast. One that none of them really asked for. Kala is what she is, she doesn't have much choice. She can hear someone calling for help across town – across the country. How can she not answer?"

He was silent for a long moment. "Fuck, I owe her an apology. And I need her to know … I'm not gonna spill this. I don't … I don't know if there's anything left, there, I mean we both burned that bridge real good, and if this guy … if he's good for her … I don't wanna screw that up. But can you tell her? Her secret's safe with me?"

"Yeah, Sebast, I'll tell her," Elise said. "I know that, and she probably does too. Dammit, you're my friend too, and I don't want to be the asshole here. It's just … I get how crazy all of this is. I live it every day. Lois and Clark love you, too, and so does Jason. If you want to walk away, they'll understand, you can't force anybody into this life. But dammit, it'd be nice to have another civvie in the know I could talk to. And I can't imagine you not being here, after all this time."

He chuckled at that. "You and me, the out-laws of the family. I don't … I don't really wanna walk away from all this. It's just a _lot_. I need to think. And I've got my own shit to figure out even before I get around to the girl I'm half in love with is half alien." Sebast paused, thoughtful, and tried to see the lighter side of it all. "Maybe that's my excuse. I don't like girls, I just like Kryptonians."

"You have issues," Elise laughed. "They are … different. And an endangered species, which is why I'm putting my career on hold to grow another generation."

"I wondered about you settling down so quick," Sebast admitted.

"Yeah, well, hybrid pregnancies are by definition high risk. It's better if I start young, when I'm in peak physical condition. Kryptonians also aren't terribly fertile, so it's taken a while." She sounded clinical, like she was about to go off on a mad science tangent.

"Please don't tell me how virile Jason Kent is," Sebast said quickly. "I know him, I do not need details about the guy I call Lizardboy."

Elise snorted laughter. "Okay, fine. And I'll tell Oracle she can stop monitoring your phone and your laptop."

"My _what_?" he asked, shocked.

"They don't play, Sebast," Elise told him. "The minute you told Kala you knew, she had to tell her father and brother, because you could figure them out. But first she had to tell Oracle, because that's who monitors the information. Oracle called Jason, and he's out punching rocks 'cause he's pissed at his sister for letting it slip – and letting you go. But more importantly, you know enough, now, that you could figure out a whole lot of people. Which means, ever since you said it to Kala, the world's best hacker has been watching your phone and laptop to see who you'd call, what you'd post, what you'd do. Hell, you know your phone's mic is always on, right? That's why when you do a voice search, it responds. I wouldn't be surprised if Oracle heard our whole conversation."

"Holy shit, is someone coming after me?" he asked.

Before Elise could reply, he heard a distinct click on the line, followed by a digitized voice. "Whose secure line did you think she was calling you back on, Mr. Vélez? I hardly needed to tap your phone mic."

"_Oracle!"_ Elise yelled, indignant.

"Jesus!" Sebast yelped. "The fuck is this bullshit?!"

"Elise, does she always go for the profane ones?" Oracle asked rhetorically. "In answer to your question, no, we're not sending anyone after you. You're a _civilian_. That's a line we don't cross."

"I remember jumper cables that say otherwise," Elise muttered.

"And you'll never let me forget it, I know. One point you got wrong, though. I've been watching Mr. Vélez since he walked out of the band. Kala notified us that Jason Todd had been identified, and I started monitoring then."

"Why am I not surprised?" Elise snarked.

Oracle said to Sebast, who was still staring wide-eyed at the phone, "We are very protective of our own, and you had enough pieces of the puzzle to start making a lot of connections, as soon as you found out Kala is the Blur. Better to watch for that, and handle it proactively as soon as it happened. But the first thing you did was to call her, no one else."

"Of course I called _her_," he grumbled.

"And she remembered to tell me, distraught as she was. Then you called Elise. You didn't try to contact a newspaper, or God forbid the _Capespotting_ blog. If you had, I'd shut down your phone. Then, well, you're in Metropolis. I'd just tell Superman. And he would come have a very civil conversation with you, but if you still wanted to tell the world … he and his family would go into hiding. They won't _hurt_ you, they'd let you ruin their lives and careers before they'd hurt a civilian. We're not the bad guys. Also, I have good intel that says he personally likes you."

"Thank you, Captain Interference," Elise said. "Could you _not_? I had this under control."

"Yes, you handled it very well. Thank you. Also thank you for the god-tier hacker comment. It means a great deal, coming from you." With that, the line clicked again.

Sebast said, quietly and thoughtfully, "So this is how it is. Superheroes and shit just bounce into your life any time, and all you can do is roll with it."

"Yeah, that's my life," Elise sighed. "It's a good thing Jason's cute."

Rubbing his forehead, Sebast replied, "Yeah, he's a good guy. I just … I dunno, Elise. I wasn't looking for all of _this_ to land in my lap."

"Nobody is. Hell, Jason and Kala weren't. They didn't know who their father really was until they got kidnapped the first time. Also, once you start running around with capes, the phrase 'kidnapped the _first_ time' becomes more common in your vocabulary."

"No wonder Lois is the way she is," Sebast said thoughtfully. "Shit, no wonder she's got a permit to carry concealed in _Metropolis_. Mama Bear knows how much danger her cubs are in, every day."

"Yeah, well, both twins are basically armed full-time," Elise said. "They both know how to shoot, and Kala's picked up some more formal martial arts stuff with escrima sticks and that, but once you consider flight and strength and heat vision, she doesn't really need it most of the time."

Sebast was struck by a vision of Kala, hovering in midair, and it gave him chills. "Thanks for making me feel like I slept with a demigoddess." And then, replaying what he'd said, he cursed softly.

"I already knew," Elise said cautiously. "I think I'm the only one who does, though, and that's one little factoid I didn't share with Jase. She talked to me not long after it happened, but it sounded like a one-night thing because you were both drunk."

"Yeah, well, I'm starting to think we both fucked up," Sebast said. "She was acting like nothing happened the next morning, and I figured that meant it was terrible – I mean, I don't know a damn thing about sleeping with women – so I just went with it. And ever since we've been pretending like nothing happened."

Elise sighed into the phone. "Oh, geez. I mean, this is _not_ the time to tell this, but … that's not what it was. Sebast, she had a crush on you from the moment we all met. Quite frankly, so did I, but I decided I like my men a little more corny than cocky. She was freaking out that she'd ruined things with you, that you wouldn't stay as her friend after that, and she didn't want to be one of those girls who chase you."

Sebast shook his head. "Dammit, she's not like them. And I … I've been trying to figure my shit out since the summer. When she wasn't there every day I realized how much I missed her. But I kept my mouth shut because of this tour, and all the stress, it was the wrong time to say something. And now she's with someone else who it sounds like knows her better than I do."

"It's not that he knows her better, it's just that he knows what she is," Elise corrected. "He runs around with villains and heroes and aliens and Amazons like it's just another Tuesday. But the Kala _you_ know, I have no idea how much of that he's even seen. It's not like they've had a lot of chances to be around each other when they weren't in uniform, fighting bad guys. And as for summer, I know for a fact that they weren't an item until August."

"Which is about when she started disappearing every chance she could," Sebast replied miserably. "Shit, Elise, I screwed all this up. I don't even know what we could've had, I might've lost my best friend being so short-sighted and jealous when I had no right to be."

Elise spoke brusquely. "Maybe you both should've said something a long time ago, but you had an arrangement that worked for a while. And Sebast, yeah, from what I hear in the hero gossip this is a serious thing. Something that might last, and Kala deserves that. But if you want your best friend back… Here's the thing about Supers, they're _very_ loyal. Kala loves you way too much to just forget you."

"I'm not gonna be one of those assholes bitching about the friend zone," Sebast decided. "If I can only be her friend, fine. I don't even know if anything more would actually work out with us. But damn, I _miss_ her. Things would have to change, we never had like _boundaries_ and maybe we need some. But … Elise, I want her back."

Having said it was a burden off his heart. Even if he had to hear all about her budding relationship with Red Hood, even if she was half-alien and sometimes had to fly across the planet to save people's lives, Sebast figured he could deal with that. Kala was worth it.

"Great, that'll be a fifty dollar copay for this session, see me in two weeks and we'll talk about your mom," Elise said, and both of them laughed. There might've been a hysterical edge to it, but the laughter was still very welcome. "Just give it some time, both of you breathe and think about it. Figure yourself out before you head back to the tour. The holidays are coming up and things are gonna be crazy."

"Yeah, I need a vacation from that twat Derek, if nothing else," Sebast sighed. "Do you know that asshole thought Kala was on drugs?"

"I heard," Elise said. "He's a moron. Most drugs wouldn't do much for her. Her metabolism runs so fast the effects wear off too quickly. She can get drunk, but not for long. And she doesn't get hangovers if she can get sunlight."

Sebast nodded, realizing why the whole drug-soaked subculture in the music industry completely passed Kala by. And also realizing why Kala always basked in the sun. "Shit, no wonder she wanted this house, with all the windows."

"Solar-powered superheroes," Elise said. "Speaking of sun, you know why she gets up so early? She flies to Metropolis and hovers in the light with her dad. In the _ionosphere_, Sebast. And then she swings by and gets breakfast for the band, half the time."

"I wondered where she found a good French bakery in Amarillo," Sebast said. "Damn, Elise, I need to get off the phone with you before my brain leaks out my ears. But … things are making more sense. And dammit, I can _help_ her, now that I know."

"Give it time," Elise warned.

"Oh, I am, I'm not doing anything until after the holidays," he said. "My parents talked me into going down to Ponce for Christmas, which means like three whole weeks."

"Okay. If you need to talk, call me. I think I might have at least one line that Oracle doesn't listen to."

Both of waited for a telltale click on the line, but not hearing one, they signed off for the night. Sebast just sat there at the foot of the bed he'd shared with basically _Supergirl_, and stared at the wall, thinking.

At least the pieces were coming together, even if they made a much bigger puzzle than he'd ever guessed.

…

Babs was still recording that call, with all of its sensitive and personal discussion heavily encrypted, but she wasn't listening to it. Though Elise might personally dislike her, she still trusted that the younger woman wouldn't hesitate to tell her anything important that resulted from the conversation. She sat back, looking at her screens and seeing instead Elise's fierce gray eyes, narrowed in mistrust.

Elise Thorne was already one of the world's premier xenobiologists, and an asset to the entire caped community. Babs considered it a personal failing that she'd started off on the wrong foot with her. Her own personality had been described as abrasive, but that wasn't the problem. In testing Elise's loyalty, Babs had put the safety of Kal-El and his family above the trust of one young biochem major. At the time, it had seemed sensible. The choice she made had far-reaching effects, and Babs didn't know how to repair the breach between them. She sighed; in this she was more like Bruce than she wanted to admit. He always did what was right by his exacting definition of justice, no matter the damage to anyone's trust in him. Everyone else just had to deal, or not. He would never compromise.

She would need to consult an expert in interpersonal relationships to keep from going down the same road with Sebast, and fortunately she had one available. Dinah had juggled all the driven, intense personalities in Green Arrow's set and was doing the same with the JLA now. Surely she could mend this one. Babs reached for her comm, intending to remind Dinah how much she appreciated her. The blonde was currently out with Helena, grabbing a late night snack on their way back from patrol. She needed to talk to both of them about Libya, too, but that could wait until they got back here.

Before she could place that call, her phone chirped and the monitors flashed an incoming priority message. A wave of goosebumps ran up Babs' arms; very few things could trip an override of the main display and send a simultaneous message to her phone, and one of them _was_ at large currently. She hit the lockdown button first, before she'd read further than the first handful of words in the message.

The time and date, followed by the name that Babs dreaded most: _Joker_. She drew her sticks, listening, and heard nothing but the CPU fans running. The next few words were perplexing, and Babs put one escrima stick aside to click through to the full report.

_Joker admitted to Gotham General,_ the first line read, and Babs starting pulling data from the police and the hospital as they covered the emerging situation. Within minutes, she'd reversed the lockdown. Whatever had happened, Joker was currently in no condition to traipse over here.

The comm chirped, and she opened the line. "Oracle here."

"You saw the hospital admission?" Bruce said, in the gravelly voice of the Bat.

"Reading up now. Why didn't I see anything about him crossing paths with one of ours?" she asked. The amount of trauma inflicted made her wonder about Jay, but he was offline and in bed by now. Or should have been. And Kala was with him, likely still unsettled by Sebast's phone call. It couldn't have just been Jay, he wouldn't leave her alone after a traumatic call like that. Besides, Kala would never have let Jay go up against Joker alone, not if she'd been within a thousand miles of Gotham. Babs knew in her heart that if Kala had met up with Joker tonight, he'd be in the morgue, not the hospital.

"Check the ER video feed. It was a civilian car that dropped him off, likely one or more of his henchmen," Bruce said. "None of us did this. I'm on my way to the hospital. Someone needs to protect the medical staff and police, whenever Joker regains consciousness."

"Noted," Babs said, and did not bother to tell him that the world would be a better place if Joker never woke up. Bruce knew about the Sebast situation, she'd notified him because his identity was also at stake, and so he also knew that Kala and Jay weren't in the field. Hence his certainty that none of theirs were involved.

"I'll keep you posted once I'm in place," Bruce said, and that made her smile for a moment. Normally Bruce wouldn't bother saying something so obvious; that was his way of trying to reassure her.

"Thank you," Babs told him, and signed off, picking up Dinah and Helena's comms. "Ladies, step up the pace if you can. Something's gone down, we're not sure what, but Joker just landed in the Gotham General ER with severe injuries."

"It couldn't happen to a more deserving person," Dinah said dryly. "We're on our way, Oracle."

Knowing they were inbound, Babs turned her formidable intellect to the impact this news would have on Gotham. It _could_ have been a good thing, and in most cities, having the most dangerous criminal in town out of commission would be. But Gotham wasn't like any other city. With Joker in the hospital, some of the other rogues would take that as an opportunity. Some of his own crew might try to step up their game. With the King of Crime dethroned, Gotham would turn chaotic.

Well, _more_ chaotic. The city's underbelly had never really been _stable_. And if Joker actually _died_, all hell would break loose.

Babs sighed; this had to take precedence over the situation in Libya. She could only hope that Cass and Steph were being cautious.


	4. Cause This Is the Last Time I'm Asking

The Riverside Veterinary Emergency Clinic was open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred sixty-five days a year. Some nights they received no patients at all, and the staff caught up on charting and handled the hospitalized animals. Some nights they got utterly slammed, trying to triage cases eerily similar to those seen in human hospitals. Gunshot wounds, vehicular impacts, and in-home accidents happened to pets as well as people. And then there were the acute diseases and worsening chronic ones to consider. A parrot with psittacosis or a dog in a diabetic coma could come through the door at any hour.

Overnight, they had two veterinarians on staff, a third on call, and a variety of vet techs and kennel techs. When what was later referred to as 'the incident' occurred, there were two patients in the back and thankfully only one in the lobby. The two in back were stable: a catheterized tomcat with bladder stones and a Lab recovering from emergency gastric surgery after eating what later turned out to be three socks, two dollars and forty-eight cents in change, a child's rubber ducky, and – to the hilarity of the surgical team – a small plastic Christmas ornament shaped like a partridge in a pear tree.

The one in the lobby was Mrs. Sutherland's elderly Jack Russell terrier Moxie, who had gotten into a fight with her neighbor's Rottweiler when the terrier finally succeeding in digging under the fence that separated them. The Rottweiler had some bites to the face and legs, but Moxie had a huge, ugly gash in her shoulder where the larger dog had tried to grab and shake her. It was bandaged, for now, and luckily the damage was superficial if unsightly. Mrs. Sutherland and the receptionist were trying to work out a payment plan to cover the cost of anesthesia and sutures, since Moxie was not exactly amenable to further handling at the moment. In fact, she was tugging on her leash and growling, ready for the next contender; from her point of view, she'd won the fight when the Rottweiler obeyed his owner's commands to 'Leave it' and 'Come here'.

That night qualified as a slow one, right up until the moment when the doors burst open and a woman staggered in, carrying what looked like a huge dog, both of them covered in blood. Another enormous animal was at her side, off leash, and Moxie began snarling threats and imprecations in typical terrier fashion. Mrs. Sutherland took one look at the loose animal, the injured one, and their owner, whose face she'd seen on the news plenty of times, and snatched up Moxie, fleeing the clinic.

(Moxie was later treated at her regular vet, received thirty-eight sutures, and conned every tech in the place into thinking she was a sweetheart. Recuperating at home, she continued to bark abuse at the Rottweiler through the repaired fence. She never knew how lucky she was not to be allowed to attack a fully-grown, highly-stressed hyena. Like any terrier, she would've considered it a grand adventure.)

Meanwhile the receptionist instantly recognized Harley Quinn, even before she leveled a revolver at the receptionist's face. "You gotta help him, he's been shot!" she exclaimed, tears streaking through her mascara.

This being Gotham, it was not the first time a panicked client had pulled a gun on the staff. It _was_ the first time a pair of hyenas showed up in the lobby along with their most-wanted owner. The commotion drew a pair of techs and the senior vet, Dr. Benden, who took one look at the scene and called for a gurney. "Put the gun down, there's no need for that," he said sternly, coming over to Harley. "How long ago was he shot? How many times?"

Harley saw a white coat and stethoscope, and shoved her revolver back in her pocket. "It's been … half an hour? Twice, I think. He's bleedin' real bad, Doc." Her voice shook, and the weight of the hyena was more than she should've been able to handle.

The techs rushed out with the gurney, and Dr. Benden started to help Harley lay the patient down on it. Bud reacted to unfamiliar hands on him while he was in pain by snapping his jaws, and Harley caught his head. "No, baby, shush, it's okay, they're gonna help ya," she soothed, and Bud whimpered. Lou, still loose in the lobby and crowding Harley's legs, whined pathetically.

"Get me an XXL muzzle," Dr. Benden said, and took a firm grip on the back of Bud's neck, where the jaws couldn't possibly reach him. He already noted a wound in the animal's side, from which blood flowed sluggishly. He quickly checked Bud's gums, ignoring the snarling but exquisitely careful of how he placed his hand, and found them pale but still pink. Pressing down on the gum until it whitened, he released it and noticed a slow capillary refill time, which likely meant shock in addition to blood loss. "Let's get him in the back, start IV fluids, I want a pulse ox and heart monitor," he said to the techs, and they started rolling the gurney as another came running with the requested muzzle.

Harley started to follow them back, and Dr. Benden stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "I need you to wait here with the other one," he said, as if her extensive rap sheet and the pistol sticking out of her pocket didn't exist. He was a vet first, and in his eyes Harley Quinn was just another client, terrified for her pet's life.

"I wanna be with Bud," she protested.

"If you're there, he'll be trying to protect you," Dr. Benden said. "If it's just him we can work on him. Besides, I need you to get a leash on the other one. We might need him for a blood transfusion. Is he injured, too?"

"No, Lou's fine, he ran," Harley said, her voice breaking on a sob. "Bud's the one who … please, Doc, you gotta save him. I've got money, do whatever it takes."

Dr. Benden patted her shoulder, to the surprise of his receptionist who had already picked up the phone to dial 911. "Sit down, Ms. Quinn, and try to stay calm. It'll help Lou stay calm, too. Bud's in good hands."

She nodded, and then a steely light came into her eyes. "If you call the cops on me, there's gonna be some dead cops on your conscience."

Dr. Benden glanced over at the receptionist, who replaced the phone and tried to look as if she'd never even heard of such a device. "Natalie, please lock the door and come in back with me," Dr. Benden said. "I think it's for the best if we keep outside disturbances to a minimum until the patient is stable."

Harley collapsed into the closest chair, pulling Lou to her. He whined and licked her face, looking worriedly at the receptionist as she quickly locked the doors and headed into the back. There was another phone back there, and she glanced at it meaningfully as Dr. Benden examined his patient. "No, Natalie, there's no need to call them," he said, as a tech fitted the muzzle over Bud's snout and another shaved his foreleg.

"Doctor…" Natalie began, and Bud picked that moment to try and get up. It took four techs to hold him down, and his growls vibrated through all of them.

"If the police try to arrest her right now, she'll definitely shoot someone," Dr. Benden said grimly. "Maybe one of us, since her only goal is saving this animal and taking one of us hostage would both ensure compliance and keep the police back. So let's handle this with as little drama as possible, shall we? Ring up the zoo vet, let him know what we've got. I want a phone consultation, at least." He turned to one of the techs and said, "Get me Wyatt's Anesthesia, and look up hyenas. We're going to have to sedate him to even get hands on him. Can we get a weight, people?"

Moving Bud to the scale showed them that he could stand up under his own power, but at least they got his weight at approximately one hundred fifteen pounds. Dr. Benden gave the appropriate dose of ketamine and xylazine in an intramuscular shot to Bud's hindquarters, and the big hyena began to get sleepy. Soon they had him intubated on oxygen on and isofluorane. The muzzle had to come off when the endotracheal tube went down, but it was tied in place with gauze that also served as an emergency muzzle, just in case he started to wake up. They got an IV running in his foreleg, and a pulse oximeter clipped to his tongue to monitor heart rate, respiration, and oxygenation.

Dr. Benden looked at all the values, but even more, he trusted the feel of the big animal's shoulder rising and falling under his hand. He had been in the business long enough to watch all the fancy monitoring equipment trickle down from human medicine, and there were advances in veterinary science that would've completely boggled him if anyone had suggested it was possible back when he first started. A lot of things came down to intuition and luck, in the old days, and while he preferred to _know_ how his patients were doing with the careful monitoring of vital signs, he still consulted his innate feel for a situation. And this one felt fairly stable.

"Now let's get a proper exam," he said, and ran his hands over Bud's relaxed body. There were two obvious gunshot wounds, an entry in the front of his chest, and an exit in his right ribcage. That could be very bad, and Dr. Benden wasn't letting himself think about what would happen if Harley Quinn's obviously much-loved hyena died on the table. If the heart or lungs were pierced, though, he wouldn't have expected the animal to survive the trip here. At the very least, its gums would've been white from internal bleeding, instead of the pale pink.

There certainly was some bleeding inside, but it wasn't a runaway disaster, not yet. And so far he'd only found evidence of one shot. Harley had said there were two shots, but any pet owner in such a situation could be forgiven for miscounting. There might've only been one, there might've been three. Dr. Benden continued his exam carefully, and found a slight bullet graze on hyena's left hip. No other injuries, and the animal was in excellent condition.

His techs were shaving the area around the wounds, and the blood flow was fairly slow, so it appeared that only veins had been damaged instead of arteries. This might have a successful conclusion. "Get him draped and prepped for surgery," Dr. Benden said. "I'm going to scrub in."

Natalie turned to him and said, "I've got Dr. Stevenson from the zoo on the line."

"Great, thank you," Dr. Benden said, and stripped off his bloody exam gloves to tuck the phone between his shoulder and his ear, then he spoke while washing his hands thoroughly. "Morning, Jeff, I've got a male spotted hyena with a GSW through the thoracic cavity. Is there anything I should know before I head into surgery, or can I treat this as a weirdly-shaped dog?"

To his credit, Dr. Stevenson didn't ask why a hyena was in the veterinary ER at four in the morning. "Better think of it as a very big cat. The hyaenidae are more feline than canine. Treating trauma should be fairly routine. They do get a little touchy about anesthesia, be sure to have a reversal on hand and keep him as light as you can."

"Great, thanks," Dr. Benden said, scrubbing under his nails. "Aspiration risk typical?"

"Yes, but you might get lucky. Ask the owner how long since he's eaten. Their natural diet involves periods of fasting, and in a zoo setting they go a significant time between meals. Of course, if the owner is who I think it is, they're not exactly in a zoo setting. Our keeper, who's dealt with her before, did mention they're fed pretty much accordingly to zoo guidelines. She treats them like pets, though, so he might've had a cupcake for a snack or something."

"Let's keep the owner quiet for now," Dr. Benden said. "She's sitting in my lobby with the other hyena, and I know she's armed. I'd rather not make her more anxious than she already is."

"Smart decision. She's never caused a problem here, until the last time."

Dr. Benden paused. "What was the problem last time?"

Dr. Stevenson's voice was dry. "It wasn't her, it was her friend in green. They brought an armed security guard with them, and when my keeper realized someone was in the building and went to investigate, the guard tried to shoot my keeper. Thankfully we had Red Hood and the Blur on site, and that girl's faster than bullets. No one was hurt. We just had to patch some bullet holes in the wall of the quarantine building."

Sighing, Dr. Benden said, "If I thought it could be resolved bloodlessly, I'd say call the cops and have them send in a Bat. For everyone's safety, including the animal's, let's just keep everything nice and quiet for now."

"Understood. As far as I'm concerned, this call never happened. Just ring me later on and let me know you're all right, okay?"

"Will do," Dr. Benden said. Natalie took the phone from him, since his hands were now sterile, and he gloved up. He looked at the receptionist's wide eyes, and decided it was better not to send a nervous receptionist to ask Quinn when her pet had last eaten. He glanced around the room and settled on one of his steadiest techs. "Kerry, would you ask Ms. Quinn when this animal last ate? And advise her that we're heading into surgery?"

"Sure, Dr. Benden," the young woman said. "Should I get a blood sample from the other hyena and do an immediate-spin cross-match, in case we need a transfusion?"

Dr. Benden looked at her, impressed but not entirely surprised. All of his staff were in this business because of their devotion to animals, and the emergency clinic did see a fair number of exotics as well. Treating a venom lab's black mamba with stomatitis, as he and Kerry had done last year, tended to make even the notorious Harley Quinn seem less dangerous. "If you think you can do it safely," he replied.

She nodded and went out, as Dr. Benden got to work.

…

Harley sat in the lobby alone, except for Lou licking her hands nervously. She'd grabbed a nylon slip-leash from the counter and put it over his head, but honestly, a thin leash like that would just burn her hands if he really decided to pull. "It's gonna be okay, Lou," Harley whispered, leaning over so she could kiss the top of his head. "Bud's a big strong boy. He's gonna be okay." Lou whimpered softly.

It had all happened so fast, and started so suddenly. One moment it had been a normal night. Joker had been up late, planning and plotting their next big scheme. Harley knew he'd be grumpy if he didn't get any sleep, and besides, she wanted some attention. And his company. She'd tried sauntering through the room in nothing but lingerie, but Joker hadn't noticed her. So she'd hopped up on the table, and murmured in her most seductive voice that it was getting late. Joker had told her to go away, and so she did, ditching the lingerie for something more comfortable: an old t-shirt and pajama pants.

A few hours after _that_, he still hadn't come to bed, and she couldn't fall asleep alone. Harley always waited up for him, just in case he was interested after all, or wanted to talk, or needed anything from her. Besides, if he came in and found her asleep, he was liable to play a prank on her, and sometimes he didn't think those pranks through. Handcuffing her to the headboard was funny, sure, but not so much when she woke up and needed to go to the bathroom and he'd already left for the day.

So Harley had tried, one more time, to convince him to come to bed. She walked up to his desk where he was studying diagrams of the Gotham's power system, and stood behind Joker's chair for a moment. Then she slipped her arms over his shoulders, and leaned against his back, murmuring, "Hey, Puddin', dontcha wanna come to bed?" she asked.

Or tried to, because halfway through the sentence he'd exploded.

The moment she touched him, Joker leapt out of his seat and whirled on her. "Harley! Goddammit, how many times have I told you about creepin' up on me like that?!" he roared.

The answer was _none_, as a matter of fact, but she should've seen it coming. She hadn't actually snuck up on him, she'd had to walk past the front of the desk coming in the room, he'd just been so intently focused that he didn't see her. When Joker was in the middle of a complicated plan, he disappeared inside his own head, and she _knew_ that. She should've known that her attempt to cuddle and cajole would startle him, and no genius liked being interrupted.

So Harley had shrunk in on herself, whimpering, "Sorry!" even before he hit her.

Wham! Right in the gut, and she'd gasped for the air he'd driven out of her. That might've been all, but Joker narrowed his eyes and glared at her, finally seeing the t-shirt she wore. It was her old Gotham U shirt, and Joker snarled, "I fuckin' hate that shirt, you look like some dumb frat-rat's broad wearing it. Look at it, it's got holes in it. Dammit, Harley, how come you have to dress like a slob?!"

She wheezed, with no defense, and an uncharitable part of her mind sneered that he hadn't noticed the three-hundred-dollar lingerie set she was wearing earlier. Why'd he have to notice the old t-shirt?

It didn't matter, because he was _really_ pissed then, and he started swinging. The first blow to the head made her ears ring, and then she was too unsteady to hunch down in a little ball the way she usually did. Harley staggered back, and he came after her, swatting at her with casual, brutal blows.

Another shot to the face dropped her to the floor, and he'd kicked her belly, what little breath she'd managed to snatch back whooshing out of her. And then he was on her, sitting on her middle, his hands wrapped around her throat.

They played that game in bed, sometimes, and he knew _exactly_ how long to cut off her air to make her go off like an entire fireworks factory. But this time, she hadn't started with any oxygen in her lungs, and Harley struggled instinctively. Joker growled, ignoring the weak blows of her fists, and tightened his throttling hands. Her vision had started to narrow to pinpoints, the dark rushing in, when Joker abruptly disappeared.

Harley had gasped, tearing precious air into her lungs, her throat sore and her eyes stinging. She'd rolled over to see Joker on his back, Bud on top of him, the hyena growling and shaking Joker's left arm in his jaws. Lou was right there, too, with Joker's foot in his teeth, tearing apart the good leather of his shoe. "Bud, Lou, _no_!" she screamed, her heart seizing.

They both let him go, but Bud's hackles stayed up and all his teeth showed in a ferocious snarl. Lou stayed next to his brother, head down and making low noises between a growl and a nervous titter. They both stood their ground between Harley and Joker, and she tried to get to her feet, to pull them away, to put them safely behind her.

"You miserable mongrel," Joker spat, and drew his gun. Lou broke and ran at the first shot, but Bud fell down.

Harley didn't really remember the next part too well. It was all disjointed, like separate clips taken from a longer movie, and all of it was dominated by that terrible image of Bud falling down. She remembered screaming. She remembered throwing herself at Bud, trying to get him up. She remembered Joker yanking her up by the hair and flinging her aside, taking aim at Bud again. "Teach you to bite me," he'd muttered, and somehow Harley had fetched up against the chair, and she'd lifted it over her head, bringing it down on Joker's gun arm as he fired.

Lifting it again. Bringing it down again. Going after him with her fists when the chair broke. The rest was a red haze until he stopped moving, and then she stepped over him, thinking only of Bud. She'd picked him up somehow and staggered out, calling Lou, trying to remember where the ER vet was.

Now she was sitting in her pajamas and her jacket – when had she grabbed the jacket? Another thing she couldn't remember – in the lobby, barefooted, her hair a mess and blood all over her hands. Mostly Bud's, she thought. Maybe some of Joker's. Maybe some of her own, she sure hurt enough.

One of the techs walked out, and Harley tensed, but the woman's expression was calm. "He's in surgery," she began. "The doctor wants to know when was the last time he ate – we had to intubate him, and we want to make sure the risk of aspiration is minimized."

Harley scrubbed a hand over her face, trying to remember. "They both ate yesterday morning, so it's been … I dunno, sixteen hours? Oh, wait, and he had a little snack, a cow femur, at about seven last night." She kept seeing Bud lying so still, in a puddle of blood.

"Okay, that's good," the tech said soothingly. "He's lost some blood. The doctor wants me to run what's called an immediate-spin cross-match to see if the other one there is a compatible donor. Do you think he'll let me take blood without sedation?"

Staring at the woman, whose name tag read 'Kerry,' Harley said, "You know who I am, right?"

"Yes. I just don't see that it matters right now," she replied with shrug. Then again, this _was_ Gotham. The residents had a fairly high tolerance for super-villain shenanigans. "I also try to discourage people from keeping exotics as pets, but they're here now and they need my help. Giving you a lecture on why hyenas don't make good pets would make about as much sense as freaking out over your rap sheet. So, do you think he'll let me take a blood sample?"

Harley sighed, and stood up, wincing as an ache in her ribs made itself known. "Yeah, if I hold 'im. I can't exactly take these guys to a vet, I had to do all their shots and stuff myself. They're used to me handling 'em."

"All right, let me tell Dr. Benden about the food, and I'll be right back." Kerry was as good as her word, leading Harley to one of the treatment rooms. Harley made Lou sit, and stood over him, holding his head up. He whined, and to her surprise the tech scratched his shoulder gently. "Easy, big guy, just let me shave your leg here."

"Hush, Lou," Harley said. "They're brothers – hopefully that means it's more likely they have the same blood group."

Kerry nodded, shaved a patch of his foreleg, and Harley reached down to wrap her thumb around the top of his leg, just below the elbow. Doing so temporarily stopped the circulation in the big brachial vein, which helped make it easier to find to draw blood or place an IV. It was the same principle as the rubber tube wrapped around a human patient's upper arm. Lou didn't struggle, only whining softly as the tech put in an IV and drew two vials of blood. "I'm gonna leave the IV in, in case we do need to transfuse. You did good, Lou. Good boy, brave boy," Kerry said soothingly, patting his shoulder.

Harley let go, and the big hyena crawled under her chair. She was feeling very out of sorts by then. She wasn't used to be treated as 'normal' unless she was covered in makeup to hide her too-pale complexion and straining every ounce of acting ability she had to fit in. So far the vet staff had all behaved as if she were just a typical Gothamite coming in with a dog or something. She caught Kerry's eye, and said, "Hey … thank you. And, um, would you tell the lady who was behind the desk I'm sorry I pulled a gun on her?"

"Sure, I'll tell her when I go run this," the tech said. She looked Harley over, and frowned a little. "Um … do you need a doctor, too?"

Harley laughed. "This ain't the first or the worst, hon. I'll be fine, I'm not bleedin' anywhere important. I bet I look a mess, though."

The tech looked at her shrewdly. "Those bruises on your neck are going to be very impressive once they're fully developed. And you'll have a black eye, too. Do you have someone you can call to help you with the hyenas?"

"Yeah," Harley said, and then winced. "If she answers her phone. If not, I might need some help loading Bud in the car, then we're outta your hair. I, um, I can't give you an address for the bill. But here, take my number. I'll make sure it gets paid." The tech took her number, and then left her alone in the exam room.

She pulled out her phone, realized she was getting blood on it, and wiped her hands on her pants. Harley dialed, and listened to it ring … and ring … and ring. Eventually an impersonal message came on, telling her the number she'd dialed was unavailable. She waited for the beep, and then said, "Hey Pammy. Look, I … I need your help. I'm at the Riverside Vet ER. Bud, he … he got shot. They're tryin' to save him but I don't … I don't know for sure… Pam, _please_. I need you." Much to her surprise, she broke into tears again, and disconnected the call.

Lou pressed up against her, licking her face worriedly. "It's okay, baby, Mommy's gonna be okay," Harley whispered. "So's your big brother. It's all gonna be okay." Even if she couldn't quite believe it herself, she tried to reassure Lou, who was depending completely on her now.

…

From Gotham General, Batman spoke quietly into his comm. "His injuries are extensive. Complex fracture of the left radius and ulna, multiple fractures in the right wrist, multiple fractures in both hands, some of which may indicate offensive blows before or during this fight. Multiple broken ribs, a broken jaw, and a fractured skull with cerebral edema. Also a severely lacerated left forearm, with tissue damage that resembles a crushing injury. They have him in surgery now, trying to alleviate the cranial pressure."

"Someone beat the holy hell out of him," Oracle murmured. "Any idea who? I'm not seeing anything on the police frequencies."

"Nothing. He was unconscious when they dropped him off – and they were scared enough to drive into the ambulance bay, unload him, and leave him by the doors. We'll round up some of his known associates tomorrow and see what we can learn. So far, it looks like something within his organization." Batman was trying to keep as low a profile as possible, although his black uniform didn't lend itself to concealment in a brightly-lit hospital with off-white walls.

"Where's Harley?" Oracle asked.

Batman clenched his jaw. "I saw no sign of her. She might've been taken by whoever did this. Or they might've killed her."

A pause, and Oracle said, "Hood and Blur's comms have been stationary since the end of patrol. They didn't go out looking for trouble after she got that phone call."

"This isn't their style, anyway. No bullet wounds, no burns. It was someone else," Bruce said. With that he signed off, and returned to watching over his enemy. At least the medical staff were treating him with professionalism. There had to be a lot of tension in that operating room; no trauma surgeon in Gotham could escape seeing Joker's handiwork. For Bruce, whose father had been a doctor, that oldest credo still rang true. _First, do no harm_. And after that, it had always been Thomas Wayne's opinion that a doctor was not supposed to judge a patient. Simply do the best they could, for each one, regardless of circumstance.

…

Dr. Benden had just finished closing up, and Kerry was running whole blood into the still-sedated hyena. Luckily his brother had been a match, there'd been no agglutination in the test tube when she ran the cross-match, and Lou had let them draw blood. By some crazy stroke of luck the bullet had hit nothing vital on its way through Bud's body. The margin by which it missed the aorta and the lung had been terrifyingly narrow, though.

The veterinarian was about to ask after their client – animals were patients, people were clients – when Natalie came running into the back again, wild-eyed. "Great, now Poison Ivy is literally standing out there knocking on the front door. I don't know if I can handle this, Dr. Benden!"

"Relax," he told her, glancing at Kerry. "It was either going to be her or Joker. I doubt Ms. Quinn can call up a neighbor to help her get this animal out of her car."

Behind them in the lobby, they heard Harley's voice raised in a glad cry of, "_Red!_ You came! Oh my God I thought you weren't coming, thank you thank you _thank you_!" And then the sound of the door unlocking.

"I'll handle them," Dr. Benden said. "And – good work, people. There aren't many veterinary teams in the country who could handle a gunshot hyena at four in the morning. I proud to work with all of you."

He stripped off his gloves again, having learned early in his career not to let clients see their pets' blood, and headed into the hallway. The clinic cat, Raisin, was standing there with her back arched and all her fur on end, staring at the other hyena, whose leash Harley Quinn had dropped when her friend showed up. Dr. Benden cleared his throat. "I'd appreciate it if you restrained Lou, here."

Harley, who was still hugging the tall green-skinned redhead, whirled around. "Lou, _no_, leave the cat alone. We had this conversation, your Auntie Catwoman gets _real_ mad when you chase cats. Sorry, Doc." She caught him, sounding chagrined like any other distracted pet owner, and asked, "Is Bud … is he gonna be okay?"

"He's stable and out of surgery. I'm going to give him the reversal in a moment, but I'd like to get him out of the back to do it. Sometimes they're unpredictable when they wake up, and I have other patients back there." He met her eyes when he spoke, seeing an almost pathetic gratitude in them, and the love that people had for their pets was what had gotten him into this business in the first place. Even if the client in question had a rap sheet as long as his arm, and her sanity was extremely dubious, and the pet he'd just operated on happened to be a wild animal that had been used to commit several crimes.

And then he looked past her, at one of Gotham's most lethal villains. Now was a bad time to remember that Dr. Stevenson had said _she_ was the cause of the trouble, the last time the zoo had dealt with Harley and her hyenas. "Thank you, Doctor," Poison Ivy said, and Dr. Benden decided that his standard policy of showing no fear to any animal also applied to humans. And metahumans.

"Yeah, thank you," Harley echoed. "I dunno how to repay you. I'd hug you but I'm all bloody. Just … wow, thank you _so much_." She grabbed his hand and shook it enthusiastically.

"On the topic of repayment, there's a briefcase of cash sitting on your counter," Poison Ivy said. "I hope that will cover it."

"I can't…" Dr. Benden began, and she shook her head.

"It's already laundered, untraceable bills. Don't worry about dirty money. In my experience it all spends the same. Use the remaining balance for charity, if you have to." She spoke dryly, and looked on the whole situation with a world-weary gaze.

"Thanks, Pammy," Harley said, and at a sharp glance, she covered her mouth. "Oops. Sorry, Red. I mean, I'll pay ya back for this. I promise."

"Don't worry about it," the redhead sighed. "Come on, let's get him home."

Harley seemed to deflate a little. "I really mean it, you know. _Thank you_. For doin' all this, and comin' to my rescue. Again."

"Again," Ivy echoed. "I always do, Harley. Enough of the soap opera, let the doctor do his work."

Dr. Benden nodded. "I'll bring him to treatment room one. You might want to keep the other one away until he's completely awake; animals can be aggressive toward a pack member that's behaving strangely."

Harley looked at her friend hopefully, and Ivy sighed again, holding out her hand for the leash. "Come on, Lou. And Doctor, just for the sake of amusement, how far behind me are the police?"

He met her gaze, and it was unsettlingly like that of some of his patients. Highly intelligent, of course, capable of reason, but there was no sense of empathy there, no acknowledgment of shared humanity. Most mammals, even the undomesticated ones, looked into his eyes with a hopeful expression, trying to forge a connection. This woman felt no such thing, nor wanted it.

"I saw no need to alert the police," he told her. He'd faced down some cold and frightening creatures in his time, and drew on his professional certainty now as he had then. "I judged that doing so would be a greater danger to my staff, and to the injured animal, than simply treating him as we were asked to do."

She tilted her head a little, looking at him more intently. "Then you are a rarer specimen than I'd thought. Perhaps Batman could learn a thing or two from you. Good, if we're not interrupted, we can leave without any further disruption of your evening."

He nodded to her, and she walked back out to the lobby with the smaller hyena leaning against her shins, as Harley went into exam room one to await her injured pet.

One thing Dr. Benden was certain of; if anyone _believed_ this story, he'd probably never have to buy his own drinks again.


	5. That Inevitable Hard Landing

_This isn't staying safe._ The thought hounded Steph every moment they were on surveillance. Cass _was_ being cautious, but the places she chose to observe from were … really not that safe. Steph always felt a breath away from discovery, hiding on a rooftop or in an alley, or just watching from the market a few stalls away. They were just too _close_, most of the time.

The conversations they overheard kept hinting at something underground, something Shiva wanted. Steph wondered at first if they meant the sea caves; she'd been researching the country in her spare time, and there were some archaeologically significant caves along the coast. But no, the men also mentioned their goal was south.

If Shiva was about to move, following her could get _real_ interesting. The Libyan desert was one of the hottest and driest in the world, and trying to cross it in pursuit would be really damn difficult, at least without alerting any of Shiva's people to the fact that they were being followed.

She and Cass sat up one night talking about it, eating shorba and trying to figure out their next move. Observation only, Babs had said, but they weren't able to observe much at the moment. And if their target moved, they'd lose her. Steph trawled her spoon through the bowl, turning over the vegetables and lamb meat. "Following them is gonna be a problem. First we have to figure out where they're going, because we won't be able to stick close enough to track them. Then we have to get there ourselves."

Cass swallowed a spoonful of the soup, and looked at Steph. "Could solve both at once. Let her take me."

Steph shuddered. It _was_ an elegant solution, but letting themselves get caught and taken to the next destination as captives was _not_ a good idea in her book. "One, get over the 'me' thing. I'm with you every step of the way, Cass. You're not going up against her alone. Two, what makes you think she'd take us with her, if she did catch us?"

Cass sat back, looking at her for a long moment. Her eyes were so dark that they seemed endless somehow, as if there was far more wisdom behind them than there should've been for her years. Sometimes she really was about to come out with something incredibly insightful; sometimes she was just looking for the words to explain what was on her mind. Steph chewed a piece of lamb, raising an eyebrow. "Shiva and I … not finished," Cass finally said, and shook her head. "Would take me. You … don't know."

She gave a snort of amusement. "Yeah, I'm not anywhere near your caliber or hers. She'd probably just smack me upside the head and turn me loose. Or kill me and dump me behind a sand dune. But even if she does take you with her, how do we know she'd go after whatever this underground thing is?"

Shaking her head, Cass replied, "No matter. My business, with her. Not underground."

"Well, _I_ want to know what brought her here," Steph said. "It's probably important. She's not here for the beaches, after all. Whatever she wants underground could be something B-man needs to know about."

Cass trawled her spoon through the stew, frowning to herself. "Not important, if she stops."

"And you think her running across you would make her stop?" Steph asked, her eyebrows rising skeptically.

"_I_ stop her," Cass said, with chilling confidence.

"Look, I know you're orders of magnitude more badass than me," Steph said urgently. "But taking down Lady Shiva isn't a sure thing for _anyone_. Didn't she almost kill you, the last time?"

"Did kill," Cass corrected. "Restarted heart. Survived. Shiva wants … rematch."

Steph's jaw dropped. Somehow _that_ little tidbit of information hadn't made its way to her ears. "Wait just a damn minute, she literally _killed you_, resuscitated you, and basically wants to do it again? And you're out here talking about _letting_ her catch you?!"

Cass put the stew aside, and reached out for Steph's hands. She did that whenever she felt like she wouldn't get the words right, as if she could communicate with touch more eloquently than speech. It worked, more often than not. "I am better now," she said, with quiet urgency. "Stronger. More trained. _Ready_."

And here was Steph, stuck in the middle of a vendetta between two of the top ten martial artists on the planet. _Great_. She sighed and tipped her head back. "All of a sudden, Crown Point is starting to look like a nice quiet spot to retire to. _Jesus_. The difference is, Cass, there's no holding back; she'll actually kill you. It's all about the fight itself, to Shiva."

"This fight must be," Cass told her. "Shiva and I, alone. Tomorrow, next month, next year. Cannot stop, only put off. I am ready now. She _must_ stop."

"Fine, but you're not going after her without some real backup," Steph shot back, squeezing her slim fingers for emphasis. "You need more in your corner than a half-crippled third-rate sidekick who got fired from being Robin."

Cass scowled thunderously at her. "Stephanie. No. You are better than you say."

"No, honey, I'm just being realistic," Steph said with a fatalistic shrug. "If you're determined to go up against her, we need the big guns. I can't help you, but I'm damn sure not gonna lose you, either."

"No big guns," Cass said. "No Bats. Only interfere."

Steph did some quick calculating. She couldn't call in Oracle without Cass knowing. "Then at least hold off until we know what she wants down here, okay? If it's something big enough, we _have_ to let the Bats know – and since we don't even know what it _is_, but Shiva does, we can let her sniff it out. Then we'll call this in, and you can have your showdown with her knowing that there's backup on the way."

Cass thought about it, and finally nodded, lifting Steph's hand to kiss her scarred knuckles. "Patience. Not easy."

"Never is," Steph chuckled. Cass leaned in to kiss her, and that stopped the conversation – for the moment.

If Cass thought she actually believed that easy acquiescence, she _seriously_ underestimated Steph's intelligence. All she'd done just now was buy a little more time. The obsession Cass had with her birth mother went both ways, apparently, but it put Steph's hackles up to thinking of them finally confronting each other.

The bald truth was, Cass' motto was 'nobody dies'. And Shiva's might as well have been '_everybody_ dies'. Almost everybody, anyway. And in a fight between two highly skilled combatants, one of whom was willing to use lethal force and one who wasn't, the killer sometimes won because the other fighter was practicing restraint.

And Steph was _not_ gonna let that happen to Cass. Not on her watch.

…

Kala woke with the dawn, as ever, and ignored it for a moment to snuggle in Jay's arms. With her whole world seeming to crumble, at least _he_ felt strong and sure and safe. KLK had a show tonight, and then she'd be in the hotel, alone, listening to Derek pace in his room and the boys whisper worriedly among themselves. She wasn't looking forward to either of those things. It rattled her, not to even look forward to the stage. She'd always loved performing, even as a little kid, and to find herself reluctant to leave tonight just hurt.

And it was her birthday, and she wasn't even looking forward to _that_. She couldn't sneak home to Mom and Dad until the weekend, and the boys would probably get her a cake and some gifts, but overall it didn't _feel_ like a birthday. Sebast wasn't going to get his grandmother to ship them some fried plaintains, and he wouldn't be making his usual increasingly ridiculous birthday toasts to her. Right up until the actual celebration, he should've been dragging her around to the schlockiest tourist traps he could find, just to keep her off the bus and out of the hotel long enough for everyone else to set up the party. It was thanks to him that she'd seen stuff like Carhenge and the world's largest ball of twine.

Kala rubbed her eyes. She was _not_ going to cry, dammit.

Jay must've felt her move, because he wrapped himself around her tighter. "Morning," he grumbled, nuzzling her hair.

"Good morning," Kala said, trying to sound normal, but he sat up worriedly. She shook her head before he could even ask. "Don't pay any attention to me, it's just megrims. I'll be all right."

"You better," Jay said, and yawned hugely. "Sorry. Yeah, you have to be okay. I'm counting on you to swoop in and save my ass the next time I do something dumb."

"You are fully capable of saving your own ass, and we both know it," she said fondly.

"Yeah, but you look good doing it," Jay teased, and she gave him a smile.

He kissed her, a quick peck because neither of them had brushed their teeth yet, and rolled over to check his phone while Kala got up and headed into the bathroom. "Morning scotch breath avoidance, thank you," she laughed, grabbing the toothbrush she kept over here.

"Hey, we can't all have that perfect Kryptonian metabolism – _fuck!"_

Jay's profane yelp brought her out with a mouthful of foam, but he was just staring at his phone. "What the fuck is this shit?" Jay complained. "Joker's in the ER? Dammit, why couldn't I be the one to land his ass there?"

Kala looked at him with a frown, and Jay chuckled. "You look rabid, K."

"What the hell is going on?" Kala asked, and continued brushing her teeth standing in the middle of his bedroom area.

Jay scrolled through messages. "Someone beat the living shit out of Joker last night. His goons dropped him at the hospital. He had emergency surgery this morning for a fractured skull and brain swelling. Bruce was there all night, but no one showed up or claimed credit. According to this, which I'm getting from Babs, Gotham General's not even sure he'll wake up."

"Good riddance," Kala said, and went back into the bathroom to spit out the toothpaste. It was probably eating at Jay, that someone _else_ had half-killed his nemesis, and that worried her.

He proved her right with his next words. "If anyone gets to beat him to a bag of blood and bone fragments, by rights it should be _me_. But oh well. Either he'll die, and I'll piss on his grave, or he'll live, and I'll have another chance at him. Now I wanna know who did it."

Kala rinsed her mouth out and spat. "He's got the survival skills of a cockroach, Jay. Not that that should be comforting. Personally I'll be happier if he dies." She only hoped her father wasn't listening for her this morning.

"I can't say I'll be mad if he buys it," Jay said, sounding philosophical. "Where the hell was Harley during this? I'm surprised whoever worked him over didn't put her in a hospital, too. Or a morgue. She's real good at jumping in front of danger for him."

Kala paused. "What if it was Harley who did it?"

Jay scoffed. "Harley? She'd never turn on him. She's too brainwashed. He's beaten whatever survival instinct she had left out of her."

"Don't be so sure," Kala said, coming out of the bathroom. "A woman cornered is a dangerous beast indeed, and brainwashing isn't always a hundred percent effective. I've proven that." She managed a smile on the last words, but even if that hypothesis was true, it was still bad news.

Jay looked at her, and nodded slowly. "I've seen her hospital records. As if I needed another reason to hate him, he's the kind of asshole that takes everything out on his woman, and I've never been able to stand those guys. Every one of them needs to run a gauntlet on Themyscira, let the Amazons beat some sense into them. Or just kill 'em. If Harley finally snapped and turned on him, well … I can forgive her for stealing my prerogative. Hell. Good for her, if she did it."

Kala sighed. "Yeah, I should probably say that no one deserves a beating like that but … we both know I don't believe it. I hope it was Harley. Babs said something about her once, that when she's with Ivy she's more predictable."

"And Babs ran intel for the Suicide Squad," Jay mused. "She's worked with Harley before. Personally, I wouldn't trust her. I've run across her a few times, and as far as I can tell, she's crazier than the Clown. She might be smarter, too."

"Babs said that, too," Kala remembered. "She also said Harley might be useful."

Jay snorted a laugh. "With my luck, Babs'll mail Harley a comm and a box of Alfred's cookies, try and get her on the team. It worked for me."

"Is _that_ how she recruited you?" Kala asked, smiling.

He nodded. "The peanut butter cookies, too. She's ruthless."

Kala went over to him and hugged him. "I'm glad she is. It got you back home."

Jay's arms around her felt heavenly, and his kiss on the top of her head made her smile. "Nah, that was _you_. Babs got me working with Bruce and the boys. I didn't start hanging around the Manor until you came along."

"Guess I'm good for something, then," Kala said lightly.

Jay smacked her butt for that. "You're good for a lot of things."

She drew in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "Tell that to Sebast."

"You know what?" Jay caught her upper arms and held her away from him to stare at her. "One, Sebast already knows that. Two, his issue with you is mostly his fault, as I see it. Shit, I don't talk about stuff if I can help it, and _I_ managed to make a move before you left. He should've manned up."

Kala rolled her eyes. "You made a move _in the airport_, Jay. And only because Dick basically forced you to drive me."

"I still made a move," he said. "It counts. If I had my way, I would've done a whole lotta movin' the night before. Maybe even moved your bed halfway across the room."

One eyebrow arched, Kala looked at him skeptically. "Uh-huh. I seem to recall I had to chase you home on your birthday, too. And damn near throw you through a wall to get you to admit there was something here."

For an instant, his expression was hunted, as if she were talking about something far more serious and dangerous than getting him to admit he wanted her. Then Jay shrugged, giving her a small smile. "What can I say? I was pretty sure you'd shoot me down. Look, neither of us is real good at communication outside the field or the bedroom, K. You didn't answer my voicemail, and I didn't say anything else."

"We seem to be communicating pretty well right now," she pointed out.

Jay nodded. "We're also in my bedroom."

She rolled her eyes in exasperation, and they both heard her phone chirp several times in quick succession. "That's probably my family texting their birthday wishes," she said.

Jay caught her chin and kissed her. "Happy birthday, by the way. When do you have to go back? I can hook you up with a temporary present. I'll even wrap it."

"You horndog," she laughed. That was just the lighthearted distraction she needed. "I should really go. Derek and the boys will be waking up in a couple hours, and the guys will want to celebrate. I need a little more sleep than I got, too."

Jay hugged her close again. "Well, if I can't have you today, when can you fly back? Gives me a chance to get you a real gift. I'll talk Alfred into baking a cake."

Kala kissed his cheek. "I'll be back the weekend. As for gifts, you're the one thing keeping my head straight lately. That's gift enough. I won't say no to Alfred's baking, though."

"No one does. But if _I'm_ keeping you sane, K, you have some big problems. I'm not qualified to judge most people's sanity, much less help them hold onto it."

She nudged her nose against his. "No one asked you to judge. Just … be here. Like you have been. I need that."

Jay gave her an extra squeeze. "I will be. It's just … I'm not used to thinking of myself as someone anybody can rely on. Least of all someone like you."

Kala cupped his face in her hands and stared at him. "I'm not telling you… Jay, you have zero responsibility for me. All I'm asking is for you to be here."

"Not going anywhere," he replied. "Look, I wouldn't leave Gotham even with Batman trying to hunt me down. And the last time I did leave, it was to see you. I think we're set."

"Yeah," she sighed, remembering Denver. "So keep doing what you're doing. And just … give yourself some credit, Jay."

"What, and become as arrogant as Bruce?" he teased. "Not fuckin' likely. I'm a cocky asshole, but I'm not _that_ bad." Both of them laughed at the comparison.

…

Bud was snoring, and by the look on Harley's face, it was the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard. Pam watched them both; she had only barely prevented the convalescing hyena from being installed on _her_ bed. Instead Bud lolled on the couch, his chest and side bandaged, large rectangles of fur shaven off. Harley sat on the floor beside him, petting his head, and Lou snuggled up to her, occasionally sniffing his brother's feet as if to make sure he was still there, still all right.

Pam watched them for a while, then went to get her first aid kit. "Harley, come here," she said gently. When the blonde looked up at her blankly, she couldn't help a small smile. "You were so worried about Bud, you haven't bothered with yourself. Come on, let me take care of you."

"Like you always do," Harley said sadly, but got up and followed her into the bathroom. She sat on the closed lid of the commode under the bright fluorescent light, which only made her bruises more obvious. Pam checked her over thoroughly. Her eye was swelling shut, her lip was split, she had a magnificent necklace of bruises in exactly the shape of Joker's strangling hands, and once she took off her shirt, her ribs and belly were bruised, too. There was a perfect shoe print just below her sternum.

Pam had a stethoscope of her own, and listened carefully to Harley's breathing. The bruises on her ribcage likely meant broken ribs, and luckily her breathing was clear, so none of them were poking her lungs. Last, she looked at Harley's hands, and winced. Two fingers were clearly broken. "Harl, those have to be set," she said.

"I know," Harley sighed, and nodded. "Just do it, Pam."

So she did, and couldn't help looking at Harley's face right after she'd tugged the bones back into alignment. Her eyes were screwed shut, and she let out a little whimper. Any normal person would've yelled, but Harley's pain tolerance was high. Pam touched her cheek, and heard a clatter of claws on the floor behind her.

Lou shoved his way into the small room, whining, and Harley laughed. "It's okay, Lou-baby. My Babaloo-boy. Mommy's fine. Auntie Pam's just helpin' me get fixed up." He licked at her tears, then turned and shoved his big blocky head into Pam's hip, letting out a worried little groan.

"Settle down, you silly creature," she scolded, petting the top of his head. "Lou, go sit down. I need room to work."

"Go on, Lou," Harley said, and he sat down in the hallway, still whining. "He's been cryin' like that ever since Bud got shot. I think he's traumatized, Pammy."

"He'll be fine once Bud wakes up," Pam assured her, though she knew no such thing. Reassurance was more important than facts, just now. She carefully splinted the two broken fingers, noticing Harley's split and bruised knuckles. As much as she hated to ask the question, she needed to know. "Harley, where's Joker?"

Harley blinked at her, and a spark of hatred lit up her eyes. "I dunno, and I don't give a rat's ass," she spat.

That was … new. Harley had declared her intention to leave him and never go back before, but she'd always wanted to know where he was. Pam touched her throat gently, and asked, "What happened?"

The blonde swallowed, and tears started to well up. "He shot Bud," she whispered. "We had a fight, and he … he hit me, you know, and Bud went for him. So he _shot_ him. He shot my baby, Pammy. I couldn't … he was gonna shoot 'im again and I couldn't lose Bud and I already gave up too much t' be with him and he was gonna kill my _baby_…"

Pam stroked her hair, matted with blood as it was, and reflected that they both knew why her sister in Brooklyn was raising a blonde-haired green-eyed little girl named Lucy. Only Harley never let herself speak of it, and as far as Pam could tell, Joker didn't even know he was a father. The hyenas had become surrogate children for Harley, and by shooting one, Joker had shown his true colors in a way Harley couldn't deny, ignore, justify, or forgive. "It's okay, Harley. Bud's gonna be fine, Joker won't hurt him anymore."

"No, he won't," Harley said, the tears gone as her voice turned steely. "Mistah J might not hurt anybody ever again, maybe."

Wild hope rose in Pam's chest, and she looked down at Harley, trying not to let it show in her eyes. "What do you mean?"

Harley grinned at her, a feral baring of teeth that looked too much like Joker's own smile for comfort. "I didn't exactly take the time to check if he was still breathin' when I left. I hope he's not. I hope he's _dead_. You were right, Pammy, everything you told me out loud and in my head, you were right. I shoulda killed him a long time ago. I shoulda killed him the first time he hit me."

Pam hugged her close and kissed the top of her head so Harley wouldn't see her face. "I don't care what you should've done. I only care what you _did_. And if he's dead, Harley, that's going to be better for everyone."

Harley wrapped her arms around Pam's waist. "I love you, Pam."

She couldn't hold back the tears, and was glad Harley couldn't see her face. "I love you, too, Harley."

…

Dick burst into the kitchen with his hair still sticking up. "Guys, this is an emergency!" he proclaimed, as Alfred, Bruce, and Tim all looked at him with alarm.

"Is it Joker?" Tim asked, and Bruce visibly tensed. Dick knew he'd been out until dawn, and only managed a few hours of sleep. Then again, that was normal for him. Any information on Joker _should_ have come through him, but everyone was keyed-up after the mysterious attack. No wonder Tim leaped to that conclusion.

Luckily this was something completely different. Dick shook his head decisively. "No, nothing like that. Sorry, it's a dayside emergency, not a caped emergency. Anyway, I just saw the Facebook notification – Kala's birthday is today, and we didn't get her anything!"

"Speak for yourself," Bruce said calmly. "There's a dinner reservation tomorrow night in her name, for up to eight guests, at a very exclusive vegetarian restaurant. I would have made it for tonight, but her band is onstage."

"She's back on the wagon?" Tim asked, curious.

"She was when I made the arrangement in May," Bruce replied.

"She'll eat it anyway," Dick said dismissively. "Why didn't you warn us? We could've all gotten her something."

"Because Master Bruce left the task of making the reservation to me," Alfred said. "And I appear to have neglected to note the date when I did so. I am terribly sorry, gentlemen, I have failed you all."

Dick narrowed his eyes at Alfred. He didn't believe that for a second – but given the pranks he and Tim typically played on each other, Alfred might've wanted to avoid them turning their sights on Kala.

Meanwhile Tim said, "I got her a gift card to this store, Subculture. It's a Goth kind of thing. Just like I got Jason one to ThinkGeek. I do all my birthday shopping for the year in January, get it all set up, and the emails go out on the day of."

Dick rolled his eyes. "That's … Tim, that's frighteningly organized and just a little bit, I dunno, _cold_, maybe?"

"Nobody ever complains about gift cards," Tim said. "I mean, people _say_ it's cold, but that way I know they'll get something they like. You never minded getting a gift card."

"Yes, but you put it in a card and hide it in my apartment," Dick replied. "That has a personal touch. And it took me three days to find it last time."

Tim smiled at that. Bruce, meanwhile, cut in to say, "If you're quick, you can get something delivered to her hotel room today. They're on the West Coast somewhere, there are plenty of places that will deliver."

Dick frowned. "You know, I think I have an idea. Better than a gift card, anyway. In the meantime, I wonder if Jay knows it's her birthday?"

"She was here last night," Bruce replied. "I suspect she would've told him."

"He didn't tell her about his birthday," Dick pointed out.

"She's more forthcoming than he is," Bruce said equably.

Dropping into a seat, Dick just sighed. "Speaking of those two … are we gonna do anything about the fact that they're ridiculously in love and both seem to be in denial about it? Maybe we could lock them in a safe together or something."

"If I may offer an opinion?" Alfred said politely, placing coffee before him. All the boys looked up at him intently. "It has been my experience, gentlemen, that unsought relationship advice is _never_ well received. You might do more harm than good, if you try to force them to acknowledge their relationship to your own satisfaction. And make no mistake, it is _your_ satisfaction you are concerned with. Whatever arrangement they have clearly suits both Master Jason and Miss Kala."

Dick smirked a little. "Well said, Alfred. I'll keep my nose out of it, then."

They all turned their attention to breakfast for a while. Dick rubbed his shoulder absently; he had a bruise from landing wrong last night. Or was it the night before? It was hard to tell, sometimes. Bruises were par for the course with both of his jobs.

Tim had finished his first cup of coffee, and as Alfred refilled it, he asked Bruce, "Is there any news on Joker?"

Bruce just shook his head. "Apparently he's in critical but stable condition, comatose, severely injured, but breathing on his own. The hospital has no idea if he'll ever regain consciousness. As long as his vitals hold steady, though, they'll keep him alive on an IV drip and a feeding tube. Gordon has officers on standby in case he does wake up, and he's in full restraints. I left two listening devices in the room, as well. If anything happens, we'll know."

That question – posed while Dick had a mouthful of cereal – and its answer were nowhere near satisfying. "I don't suppose he'd do us all a favor and pass away peacefully," Dick said with a sigh.

Bruce poked at his eggs thoughtfully. "He's recovered from terrible injuries before. I'd almost suspect him of being a metahuman with a healing factor, but repeated blood testing has shown nothing but normal human cells."

"He's always been luckier than a sack of cats," Dick added.

"Everyone's luck runs out sometime," Tim replied. "Maybe this is his. What about the perpetrator? Any ideas on that?"

Bruce was sipping his coffee, and put it down to answer. "Jay spoke with Babs earlier this morning. We've definitely confirmed it wasn't him or Kala, but she offered an opinion. She thought Harley might have done it."

"Harley?" Dick said, raising a skeptical brow. "After everything he's done to her, and she never so much as talked back to him? I might believe that if she was with Ivy at the time, but the last we heard, Harley had found her way back to Joker and both of them were lying low."

Bruce shrugged. "It would explain why we have no evidence of Harley being attacked. If she _had_ done so, I would expect another big move from her, and soon. I have Barbara checking into Amanda Waller's files, in case the Suicide Squad gets a lead on her first. And we've run through all her known associates with no luck. Except for Ivy herself. I'm going to go looking for her tonight. There are a handful of possibilities."

"Harley's never _left_ Joker for Ivy," Dick pointed out. "It's usually Ivy getting her out of the hospital or busting her out of Arkham or just picking her up off the street after Joker's beaten the hell out of her again. But then, if she's turned on Joker like Kala suggested, it would make sense for her to go to Ivy."

"Together, those two could be rehabilitated," Bruce said quietly. "It's what we should hope for, at this point."

Tim looked over at him. "Do you really think Harley and Ivy could be _rehabilitated_ at this point? With everything they've done?"

Bruce looked at him steadily. "Yes. When we talk about rehabilitation, what we really mean is _redemption_. For that to happen, they'd both have to feel remorse for their past actions. They can't feel remorse unless they have empathy for their victims, and Ivy has been drifting from her humanity since the accident that made her Poison Ivy. Harley ran down one of the darkest holes in the human psyche, chasing Joker, and became a sociopath for whom most other people simply aren't real. Lives don't matter to Joker except as counters in a game of his own devising, one where he changes the rules at a whim, and Harley's been living so far out beyond the rules of normal society for so long that it's a foreign country to her. I suspect that was part of the initial attraction; according to her case history, Harley always had a rebellious streak, but she ended up following the rules that constrained her. With Joker, she broke them all, and was left with nothing except his whims."

"That's really bleak," Dick said quietly. Bruce didn't often get philosophical about their foes.

Bruce nodded. "Together, Harley reminds Ivy that she's human after all – why else would Ivy bother rescuing her? And if Harley can see one person other than her maker as real, then sooner or later she'll start to realize _everyone_ is real, every person she sees has their own internal life, their own hopes and dreams. Even her victims. As much as I disapprove of Task Force X, Amanda Waller has been doing significant work toward making all of them come to the same conclusion, by getting them to trust and empathize with each other. And when Harley realizes that, I hope she's either safely in Arkham or Belle Reve, or I'm there."

"Why?" Tim asked, frowning.

The look on Bruce's face was grave. "Because no one can carry the weight of all that remorse alone. If Harley truly understands what she's done, she may decide the best way to atone for ruining so many lives is to end her own."

Dick and Tim glanced at each other then. Dick was the one to speak, finally. "And you have to save her, if you can. Because you have to save everyone."

"Yes," Bruce said with quiet dignity.

Dick thought about calling him on it, unpacking all of that. The way Bruce felt remorse for every failure, every life not saved, every trauma to one of his own people, and how his own brand of atonement meant trying to save everyone, even the villains most would simply write off as a lost cause. Bruce had wanted to bring Jay home, wanted to heal him somehow, even when Jay was doing his level best to destroy everything the Bat stood for. Everyone out there who feared the Bat hadn't seen the deep compassion that moved him – and the self-recrimination, too.

The other reason he had to save the worst of them all was because on some fundamental level, Bruce didn't see himself as all _that_ different from them. He believed only his code kept him from becoming a villain himself. Which, technically, they all did break the law on a nightly basis, but they were _vigilantes_. Not villains. Dick had taken years to figure that out about him … well, to be honest, Babs had figured it out and told him, but as soon as she said it, a lot of things made so much sense.

Dick looked across the table at the man who'd been his father-figure longer, now, than his own father had lived to know him, and just shook his head. It wasn't worth debating, especially not over breakfast. Some things Bruce just wouldn't admit.

Tim had evidently been thinking similar things, because he glanced at Dick with a raised eyebrow. Of all the boys, Tim was the most intellectually similar to Bruce himself, though Dick privately thought he was even smarter. For Tim's sake, Dick grinned and said, "Like Pokemon. Gotta save 'em all."

That earned him a laugh and a roll of Tim's eyes, which was exactly what he'd wanted. Tim could use some levity now and then. That returned them all to some semblance of normalcy.

Until Bruce shattered it with his next words. "The Joker situation means we'll probably be seeing an upswing in violent crime. His men are either working for Harley now, or leaderless. As the other rogues learn what happened, they'll be making moves of their own. Two-Face will try to consolidate his hold, and Black Mask must be desperate to escape Blackgate and regain control of his faction. And in the midst of this, we also have a situation developing in Libya with Lady Shiva and the League of Shadows."

Dick scowled at that. "Great. Hey, we have Talia's phone number now thanks to the whole kryptonite deal with Mask, right? Why don't we call her up and have her settle it? League of Shadows stuff is her job, not ours."

Bruce gave him a quelling look. "Cassandra and Stephanie are in Libya."

Wincing, Dick replied, "Ouch. That's right, Doc Leslie said they were tracking some trouble up from South Sudan. I'd bet on Cass against just about anyone … but her mom makes me _very_ nervous."

Tim spoke then. "Shiva makes _everyone_ nervous. As for Talia, what makes you think she's not already there? We haven't seen anything out of Paris lately."

Dick really frowned then. "The _last_ thing I want is Cass and Steph caught up in a fight between her and Shiva. Can we pull them out of Libya?"

Bruce looked at him somberly. "Barbara could ask, but I doubt Cassandra will leave. Shiva _is_ her mother, and they have plenty of unfinished business. And Stephanie knows that, so she won't leave Cass' side. I know Barbara is planning to send one of her Birds if the girls uncover any evidence that would lead them into a conflict. Perhaps we can resolve this without embroiling our people any further."

"Good luck convincing Cass to leave, whatever they find," Tim said frankly. "She _might_ listen to you, or Babs, but anyone else? Cass trusts her own judgment, and she won't walk away from a situation where innocents could get killed."

Dick groaned. "And of course we have Joker in the ICU in the middle of all of this, otherwise _I'd_ go over there. This is the worst damn timing possible."

"We'll do what we have to," Bruce said. "And trust that all of us – including Cassandra and Stephanie – will look out for themselves and each other."

Sighing heavily, Dick said, "We could send Jay and Kala over there. She could fly them out in a couple hours and drag both the girls home."

Bruce shook his head. "I won't send Jason somewhere Talia might be. She still has influence over him. Likewise, I won't send Kala anywhere near a Lazarus Pit. That's too great a risk."

All of them paused at that. Kala knew what the Pits were, thanks to Jay, and knew to avoid them, but some variables couldn't be controlled for. If Kala were exposed to it … Dick gave a full body shudder, imagining the Empress in the grip of Lazarus fever. "Yeah, no, let's _not_ risk that."


	6. Waiting for the Rain to Fall

Babs got the news over her police scanner that same morning. She listened to the report, which was vague, then started digging into the archives. It always gave her a bit of a qualm, hacking the GCPD database; it was her father's job, his calling, and to sneak around _here_ felt like a betrayal.

Commissioner Gordon had accepted the need for Batman and his flock. He could accept that they needed to know things which he couldn't tell them, in good conscience. The best solution, for his integrity and public safety, was for the best hacker on the team to slip into the archives and find the information.

The fact that it happened to be his daughter was just an uncomfortable coincidence.

Someday Tim would be doing this, Babs though as she slipped past firewalls. He had the tech savvy, the detail-oriented mindset, and the patience. But not today – she wasn't quite yet ready to retire.

Notes and audio files loaded up onto her screen, and she began listening to the statements taken from the employees at the Riverside Veterinary Emergency Hospital. It turned out to be extremely interesting, indeed.

One hyena, shot twice. Another hyena clearly stressed but uninjured. Their owner bruised and bloodied, but paying no attention to her own injuries until her pet had been cared for. And it had all happened around the same time Joker had been dumped at the ER.

She picked up her phone and dialed Bruce. "Kala was right," she said.

"It _was_ Harley," he replied, probably reading the same notes from the Bat-computer.

"According to this technician's statement, she had bruising on her throat and injuries to both hands," Babs said. "I wonder if she attacked Joker, and the hyena got in the middle of it somehow."

"She wouldn't just decide to attack him out of nowhere," Bruce mused. "There's always a reason. So … Joker attacked her first. That's a normal pattern for him. Then the hyena tried to defend her. He shot it for interfering, or just to get it off him, and she retaliated against him. That's the difference – the hyena being shot is why she fought back, this time."

Babs bit her lip against a muttered curse. Of course. It had to be a unique circumstance – and Joker had never harmed the hyenas before. He didn't dote on them like Harley did, but he found them useful. "That fits. She was near hysterical when she showed up at the clinic. That vet handled it exactly right – the cops gave him hell for not calling it in, but I think he was right. Any ordinary cop, or even a SWAT team, would've been met with overwhelming force."

"We could have handled her," Bruce replied. As he must, of course. "I'd rather have her in custody – and Ivy, too."

"At least the prognosis for the hyena is good, but he'll need time to recuperate. That'll keep Harley off the street." Babs looked over the veterinary records again; they were similar enough to human medical records that she understood it had been a very close thing. "I'm going to get samples of the bills she paid with, but it's likely they're untraceable."

"Money laundering," Bruce said, in tones usually reserved for despicable perversions. "The officers involved handled it well. Every bill is accounted for."

"The bad old days are just about gone," Babs replied, thinking of the time when most of the GCPD had been on someone's payroll. Her father had changed that, but when Bruce had begun as Batman, the briefcase full of cash would've been a lot lighter when it arrived at the station. Or simply disappeared in transit.

That was mostly a thing of the past, now. There would always be problems, but Commissioner Gordon wouldn't let the police force return to the corruption he'd inherited.

The funds would sit in evidence for a while, but if they weren't traceable or counterfeit, eventually they'd have to be handled in accordance with policy. In the meantime, Bruce said, "The Wayne Foundation is covering the costs the clinic incurred, treating the hyena, and offering free counseling to any of the technicians who might've been traumatized by the experience."

"Sounds like the receptionist will need it," Babs said quietly. Her transcript seemed the most rattled. The Wayne Foundation provided supported for a lot of people caught up in the aftermath of various high-profile crimes. A helping hand, and a sympathetic ear, might prevent a few people from deciding to slip on a mask and seek retribution.

"I'll tell the others," Bruce said, and clicked off the line without waiting for further commentary.

Babs, meanwhile, pushed her glasses aside and rubbed her temples. She'd been trying, ever since the news last night, not to feel some kind of bitter triumph at the thought of Joker lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to all the same incessantly beeping machines, feeling the same maddening helplessness she had. A part of her, a small and perpetually angry part, wanted to drive over to the hospital, wheel up as close to his room as she could get, and shout _'How do __**you**__ like it, you miserable sack of shit?!'_ until someone dragged her away.

There were two reasons why she wouldn't do that. Well, three, really.

One, she'd get herself arrested, and that would embarrass her dad. Babs loved him too much to do something that thoughtless.

Two, her colleagues expected better of her. _Dinah_ expected better of her, and worse, Dinah would _forgive_ her for slipping up and letting the vicious bitch at the bottom of her brain loose. In these circumstances, they'd all forgive her – and that kind of compassion was too close to the pity she loathed.

Three, she was afraid that if she started out yelling, she'd end up laughing.

Like him.

Babs contented herself with murmuring, "Good for you, Harley. Now save us the trouble and turn yourself in." Then she turned her attention ruthlessly to the work that needed to be done, the serial numbers on all those bills that needed to be matched against the counterfeiting database.

…

The normal course of events, on their shared birthday, was for Kala to text Jase when she got up. She usually rose earlier, and their time zones were rarely in sync, so she sent that text where it'd be the first thing her twin saw. Then he would call her later once the farm animals were fed and he had a spare moment. It wasn't always possible for her to fly out and see him, but she tried. And hearing his voice was enough to keep her going.

She'd texted Jase when she left Jay's apartment, and then got swept up in everything with the band. Dustin called to tease that she was getting _old_, and his gift arrived later that day: a box from the small company that made her favorite perfume, containing a bottle of eau de parfum and bodywash in the same candied-violet scent. Mom called, with Dad, Daddy Richard, Lana, and Kristin in the background, and all of them sang 'Happy Birthday' to her, bringing Kala nearly to tears. Their gifts were still in Metropolis, waiting for her next trip home and the big family dinner that always marked her birthday.

Her boys showered her with gift cards, too cautious to buy for a girl who wasn't related to them. They sang the birthday song, too, but being a trio of quirky band geeks, they did their best to sing it in their closest approximation of death metal, which probably terrified whoever was in the next room. Even Derek presented her with a nice card signed by himself, Jenna, and just about everyone at the label who worked with her. Kala was so surprised by the gesture that she hugged him, which clearly shocked the poor man.

The Gotham contingent spoiled her rotten, too. Babs, Dinah, and Helena had sent her a card and a gift basket that contained, among other delights, a bottle of ice wine, which Kala had only mentioned once in Babs' hearing that she enjoyed the stuff. Then again, Babs _was_ the information broker; she wouldn't forget a fact, no matter how trivial it seemed. Uncle Bruce had made dinner reservations for her, Tim had sent an e-giftcard with a sweet note, Alfred had shipped out a box of delicious scones, and Jay had managed to get an edible arrangement of chocolate-dipped fruit sent out to her the same day. The attached card, which read, 'This is _almost_ as sweet as you,' made her laugh out loud – and hide it from everyone else.

Meanwhile Dick had gone to the Gotham Zoo, adopted a young female Egyptian fruit bat, and named her Josephine. The email confirmation Kala received noted that an adoption package was being mailed to her, at the address of her next hotel stop. Dick had even included a personal note that this species was the only fruit bat to use echolocation, therefore an appropriate gift for a singer. Kala couldn't help letting out a squeak of delight at the pictures of fluffy big-eyed bats attached to the email. It was the perfect thing to remind her of Gotham, and reading further down, her adoption package included a photo of 'her' bat, a Gotham Zoo t-shirt, and a bat plushie. So far, Dick had _definitely_ won the 'best birthday gift' contest.

It was late in the afternoon before Kala got a few minutes alone, and she flopped on the hotel bed with a sigh. She still had to figure out what to wear to dinner tomorrow, and Morgan, Robb, and Ned were all searching their suitcases for the same reason. Kala had decided to bring all three of them with her, in hopes that their company would make her feel a little less alone. It'd be good to do something together as a band, too.

They were all feeling the loss of Sebast. Morgan sang his parts in their duets, but his voice didn't have Sebast's power, or the rich underplay of tone and nuance that Kala and Sebast had developed over the years. The choreography had to change, too, because none of the boys were comfortable dancing with her the way Sebast had. Robb, especially, claimed to have no rhythm despite being a professional _bass player_.

Other bands lost musicians and managed to soldier on, but not a lead singer. Kala had been giving a hundred percent on stage the whole tour, but now she was compensating for Sebast's absence, and frankly it was burning her out. She was exhausted more often than not, but she managed to be extra-welcoming and cheerful backstage, to greet every city with every ounce of charisma she possessed, trying to give the fans what they'd come for and still knowing it wasn't quite enough.

For the first time in her life, Kala found herself dreading her job. Not once in her career had she ever wanted to cancel a show, and she'd never really felt stage fright, either. Kala had fed on the energy of the crowds, and no matter what craziness happened – from power blackouts to stage-diving fans to that one time an amp almost exploded – she could roll with it.

Not now. It was _costing_ her to get on that stage every time, instead of renewing her love for music, and her confidence was shot without Sebast at her side. She knew, too well, that the fan forums were full of controversy, and Twitter was alive with speculation. So far none of it had come up on stage, but Kala found herself waking up from nightmares of a crowd chanting Sebast's name, their demand turning ugly, and then an all-out riot between those who were primarily his fans, and her own.

Those nightmares bled into her other ones, where Dru-Zod castigated her for driving Sebast away and being dishonest with Jay. Never mind that Jay had forgiven her; she should've told him from the beginning that she and Sebast lived together. She was getting very tired of waking up in a cold sweat, her heart clenched in a fist of dread. Right now, the thing she missed most was Jay. Her nightmares usually stayed away when she slept in his arms, and running around Gotham with him kept her from worrying about the band stuff. It was hard to see online flame-wars as important when there were criminals and villains to fight.

Not that she had much chance to obsess about any of the problems _today_. The boys were determined to cheer her up, her phone was going off constantly with texts and social media notifications of birthday wishes from everyone she knew, and she had to fit rehearsal in somehow, too. It was exhausting, but for once, the _good_ kind of exhausting. With all those happy messages flooding her phone, she was even looking forward to singing tonight.

Just as she began to contemplate a nap, her phone rang. Kala laughed at the irony, and picked it up, but when she saw the name displayed she almost shouted with surprised joy. "_Marlene!_ Oh my God, I have missed you _so much_. How are you? Who do they have you managing now?"

"Hey, Kala, happy birthday," her ex-girlfriend chuckled. "I've missed you, too. Doing good out here – they gave me a boy band, Glades Park Five, out of Star City."

"Eww, pop music," Kala remarked. "Are they at least behaving?"

"Pop sells, sweetheart. They are now. I've been accused of having 'the mom look' and they're afraid of it." Marlene's smoky laugh was a balm to her soul. "Teenage drama, though. And they're more vain than you ever were at your worst, Kala. If someone's hair isn't _just_ right, it's a national freaking emergency."

"I'm sorry," Kala replied. "I wish you were on this tour with us."

Marlene sighed. "I do, too, but the label keeps me around for new acts. You're basically a veteran now. You guys were never really any trouble, anyway."

"Tell that to Derek," Kala muttered darkly.

A pause, and then Marlene sighed. "So that's who they gave him. And of course, it sounds like things have been rough for you this time out."

"Mostly because of _him_," Kala snapped. "I swear to God, Marlene, it's gonna be a minor miracle if we get to Christmas without me kicking his ass."

She could see Marlene in her mind's eye, sitting up and taking a sharper interest. "Hold on now, Kala. Derek's a good manager. He's had a rough spot of his own, but I wouldn't have thought there'd be issues there. Is it because of what happened with Sebast?"

Kala winced, but plunged on. "No, the problems with Derek have been going on since before I got back from Gotham over the summer. He's a _micro_-manager, Marlene! The first day I met him, he tried to tell me the band isn't allowed to carry our own instruments. He's been treating us all like children, the boys were sick of him before we ever hit the road. Hell, he's accused me of being on _drugs_, and tried to lock up my phone and ID so I can't leave the hotel!"

Marlene swore under her breath. "Dammit, I left notes that you lot were easy to manage and didn't need that much supervision."

Laughing bitterly, Kala said, "Yeah, about that. This sonofabitch told me _to my face_ that you were wrong about us, and he figured it was 'cause you were, and I quote, too busy eyeing my cleavage to do your job." Those hadn't been Derek's _exact_ words, but it was close enough to his meaning.

The silence on Marlene's end was thick with anger. "This is what I get for trusting someone," she finally growled. "Kala, I'm not even _out_ to the label. You and I stayed way under the radar just to keep them from hanging that over my head."

"Yeah, I didn't want them to fire you," Kala replied.

Marlene sighed. "They wouldn't have _fired_ me. Record labels don't fire you unless you start costing them money. Mariah Carey married her manager, and there are plenty of people in this industry who fraternize with the talent. But I have a reputation for being absolutely above-the-board and clean-cut. That's why I get the newbies. That's why they trust me and stay out of my hair."

Kala couldn't help being a little hurt by that. She'd never _liked_ keeping relationships secret, and having to hide everything between herself and Marlene hadn't been easy. "Then why would you even…?"

"Because you're you," Marlene said. "And no, I don't say that to all the girls. I broke my own rules for you, Kala, and you were worth it. Even if we knew it couldn't last. Everyone in this industry is crazy, and everyone outside it can't understand at all what we do. You were the only one who _got_ it, and who was funny and charming and sweet, too. I've had my share of toxic affairs; you know the recording industry is full of narcissists."

"I remember," Kala said. "I had a narcissist of my own; we talked about Alan. But still – if you've always kept it quiet, why did you tell _Derek_, of all people?"

"He does _not_ know we were together. I just … look, I worked with Derek before, years back. I basically trained him. I ended up coming out to him because he kinda… I had to tell him why I turned him down without it being about _him_."

"_Ewww!_" Kala yelped. "He _hit_ on you? Come on, Marlene, what's _wrong_ with him, when was this?!"

"Not that long ago, right before they gave him his first assignment after he came back. Which turned out to be you, and _man_ is that a bad coincidence."

"Tell me about it," Kala scoffed. "I swear, this year is getting weirder and weirder."

"He wasn't really serious, anyway. He was just looking for a soft place to land, and he trusted me," Marlene said dismissively. "Derek's a good guy, Kala, but when I say he's coming off a rough patch … you have _no_ idea. And it's not my story to tell. Just cut him some slack, okay? And the next time I see him, I'll deal with him and this eyeballing your cleavage business. He's hurt, he's angry, he's trying to keep his shit together just like everyone else."

She groaned at that. "Yeah, he's too busy being so far up in _our_ shit I swear he's trying to be a proctologist. He's gotta cut _us_ some slack, too, and so far he hasn't. My boys don't work too well with someone nipping their heels every time they turn around. I don't, either, and I've got way too much else to deal with to coddle my fucking manager."

Marlene replied gently, "Zeeskeit, I thought I was your only _fucking_ manager."

That pet name did get Kala laughing, hard enough that she had to wipe her eyes when she got it back under control. "God, I needed that. Marlene, this is why I miss you. Derek would just give us a lecture, you always made us laugh."

"I'm the third child out of four siblings, and we're all textbook neurotic New York Jews," Marlene replied lightly. "I _had_ to learn to manage people and deflect things with humor, or my own family would've driven me crazy."

Kala sighed. "I wish you were here. Somehow I just don't think all of this would've gotten so bad if we had you around."

A pause, and then Marlene said, "'All of this being' Sebast, I take it. I've only heard rumors, Kala. What happened?"

She gave a bitter laugh. "Well, you were the one who told him to make a move, weren't you?"

"Oh for the love of… That's it, I'm not talking to men anymore, they always repeat things out of context," Marlene grumbled. "Don't tell me Sebast waited until _now_?"

"No, Marlene, he waited until I was getting involved with someone else," Kala replied sadly. "He told me what you'd said when we had a big fight over it. That was the night I managed to get myself filmed kissing my boyfriend in Denver, and Sebast threw a jealous hissy fit, and I threw his suitcase off the balcony."

"See, I hadn't quite believed that one," Marlene said. "Oy vey, you kids. You didn't tell him about the boyfriend, did you?"

"No," Kala admitted in a small voice. "I hadn't gotten around to it. I didn't know how he'd react, and things were already tense with me having been gone the summer, and Derek being … Derek. I just … it was pretty new, and the guy and I weren't exactly putting a name to it, either, so I just kept it quiet."

"I keep telling you, if you're gonna carry around so much guilt, you have to convert. Us and Catholics, we have the market cornered," Marlene teased her gently. "You've always had a thing for Sebast, so the one time you got into something that might jeopardize that, you hid it from him. Am I right?"

"Yeah," Kala admitted. "But Marlene, I didn't _know_ Sebast and I had a real chance! You know him, he's got to be the gayest gay who ever gayed. I didn't want to be the kind of girl who tries to 'cure' her gay best friend."

"That one's on him, then," Marlene said. "I told him to get his head right, and say something to you. It was obvious to me the man's in love with you. And you love him, too."

"I do," Kala admitted softly. "That was never in question, just the _how_. I thought I could love him as my best friend and everything would stay the same. I didn't think this would all go to hell."

"And as long as no one you dated was any threat to his relationship with you, he wasn't gonna try to put a name to it or make it more than it had been," Marlene concluded for her. "You were just as miserable when he was with Javier, remember."

"Well, Javier didn't treat him right, anyway," Kala groused. "I'm still pissed at him. He made all those accusations when _he_ was the one cheating, and I hadn't even slept with Sebast yet."

"Oh, so you two finally did the deed?" Marlene asked.

Kala winced; that had been before she and Marlene got back together on the band's second tour. "Yeah, but neither of us said anything afterward. To anyone, at all, not even each other. The first time it got brought up was the big argument in Denver. But then, _all_ the stuff we were hiding got brought up then."

"It was that bad?" Marlene said dubiously.

"No, that was the problem!" Kala said, half-laughing. "It was pretty damn good for both of us, even if we were half-drunk and being stupid. At least, he implied it was, when we finally talked about it in the middle of the fight."

"You children," Marlene sighed, and Kala could just see her shaking her head in disbelief. "Have you spoken to Sebast at all since the big showdown?"

"Yeah, last night actually," she admitted. "Not for long, and it doesn't … I don't know if he's coming back to the band, or if we're still friends, or what. But he called because he was going to ship me my birthday gift. I … I cried, after I got off the phone. Which was real awkward, since I was with the boyfriend at the time."

"What about that boyfriend?" Marlene asked. "Does he know about you and Sebast?"

"He does now," Kala said sheepishly. "He knew all along about Sebast, but I never quite got around to mentioning the fact that we owned a house together. Until last night, when I figured I'd better lay all my cards on the table."

"You tell him about the two of you sleeping together? Literally, and euphemistically?"

Kala winced again. "Dammit, we shared a bed for eight years and never had sex! We slept in that bed at the house together, before _and after _we slipped up and got drunk, and it was completely innocent the whole time!"

"I know, zeeskeit, I know," Marlene soothed. "I'm just saying, that's a thing a lotta guys might have a problem with. Most people don't sleep together unless there's sex involved somewhere."

"Yes, I told him all of it, and yes, he had a problem with it, but he's … he knows how close we were. He's not being a Neanderthal about it, fortunately." Kala sighed noisily. "If he _was_ upset, he'd tell me. He's not the kind to keep it to himself."

"Good, there's nothing worse than somebody having a problem with you and not telling you about it," Marlene replied. "So how are things with the new guy? What's his name, where's he from, what's he do? C'mon, Kala, dish."

She groaned; there was so much she couldn't tell Marlene, things that wouldn't make sense even if she did tell them. "Can I get a pass on that? Things are good, he's from Gotham, I met him over the summer, but it's … complicated."

Marlene paused, and then asked worriedly, "You didn't go and sleep with Batman, did you?"

Kala yelped in horror. "_Marlene!_ God, _no_, isn't he like my _father's_ age? Eww!"

The laughter she got in response proved it was just a joke – and that Marlene had no clue about any real identities in Gotham. "Okay, then. Is it that Dick Grayson you were all over the society pages with? He's cute, at least."

"I solemnly swear I never slept with Dick Grayson," Kala said, and then chuckled. "He's even prettier in person. Total sweetheart. The thing is, I didn't go there to hook up, and he's got way too many women throwing themselves at him. I figure it's worth the novelty of being the one who _doesn't_ fall prey to his dimples."

"Okay then. It's good to hear you laugh, Kala. I'm not used to hearing you this tense and upset." She could picture Marlene's sad smile at those words.

"Me neither. Right now I'm just trying to hang on until the holiday break." Kala closed her eyes, wishing Marlene was here. When they'd been together, they could talk about anything, usually with Kala laying half across her lap and Marlene playing with her hair. What she wouldn't give for that soothing feeling right about now.

"You'll make it. You're stronger than you know," Marlene assured her. "Listen, sweetheart, I'm sending you a present. It should be there at the hotel when you hit Sacramento. I'm sorry it's gonna be late, I didn't get a chance to ship it until this morning. One of my boys had a crisis because someone online said his shirt was stupid."

Kala rolled her eyes. "Good _grief_. It's okay, Marlene. Just hearing from you was present enough."

"That's sweet of you, but I'm gonna send you a bill for this one. What's your shrink charge per hour? I'll cut you twenty percent off that." Her teasing tone was gentle; Marlene knew all about Dr. Marrin, and part of why Kala had been in counseling.

Kala just laughed, "Shut up, you love me." And tried not to notice how easily she said it to her ex. It was natural for her to tell people when she loved them; only with Jay did she hold back those words, knowing how leery he was of them.

"It's hard not to," Marlene told her. "All right, I have to go. If I don't keep an eye on them, the Glades Park Five will get into trouble."

Kala sighed. "What, they'll stick a fork in a light socket or something? How old are these guys?"

"You joke, but three days ago they figured out if they rub huge globs of hand sanitizer on their arms and put a lighter to it, it'll burn," Marlene said dryly. "The youngest is thirteen, the oldest is about to turn sixteen. I'm in hell."

"Come home," Kala said playfully. "You know you want to."

"Oh, I do, but Derek would have all of these noodges committed," Marlene replied. "Be good, Kala. And call me if you need me, okay?"

"Careful, I'll call you every day," Kala replied, and couldn't even pretend to be joking.

"I don't need your new boyfriend jealous, too," Marlene laughed, and with a few more jests, they signed off.

Kala lay sprawled, her phone still in her hand, and finally felt a little lighter.

That lasted almost fifteen minutes before she realized that it was late enough in Smallville that Jason would've already had dinner, and be winding down for the day. And he still hadn't called her.

She stared at her phone, thinking. This wasn't an accident. She and Jase had had their explosive argument over the video that had outed her and Jay, but Kala had the feeling that him not calling on their birthday had more to do with Sebast finding out their identities. The worst part was, she couldn't really blame him. Jase had always been slow to anger, but once he _was_ angry, he didn't cool down easily. He could hold a grudge longer than she could.

And she'd surprised him in Kansas, showed up out of the blue, knocked him on his ass, and roared at him for threatening Jay. He'd gone busting into the _Batcave_, for fuck's sake, she'd been justified in her anger, but he wouldn't see it like that. All he saw was his sister, willing to fight him as they'd only really fought once before, in Nevada. And he blamed that on Jay.

He never could believe that the darkness in her soul was _hers_. Jason the golden boy, Jason the good twin, Jason who was as honest and sunny as a summer day under the wide Kansas sky. Sometimes Kala felt like he was her mirror image, and sometimes she felt like he was so far from her that he might as well have been another species.

Now on top of all that, she'd screwed up and let Sebast find out their identities. She couldn't blame him for being mad enough not to call on their birthday. It still hurt, and Kala missed her sweet silly iguana-loving brother poignantly.

That was enough to undo most of the good work Marlene had put in toward restoring her peace of mind, and Kala curled up in a little ball. She could only let herself cry for a little while. The show must go on – and like her mother, Kala would force all the bad stuff to one side and put a brave face on for the rest of the world before she'd admit that he'd hurt her.

…

The next morning, Kala called Jay, asking if he was free to go for a brief trip out of town. It had been a surprise, seeing as how she was going to be pretty pressed for time the next few days, by her own admission. That said, with the news about Joker still simmering in his hind-brain, Jay was more than ready for a distraction. Part of him wanted to drive over to the hospital and administer a coup-de-grace. Who would stop him? Bruce, maybe, but Bruce couldn't stand outside Joker's room all the time. And Jay really didn't give a flying fuck about what the rest of the family would think. If he did it, he'd do it for himself.

But weirdly … he felt like he didn't _need_ to. Maybe this was how Babs felt about Joker. She didn't take any chances, she was locked and loaded in case he ever came to finish the job, but Babs seemed to have moved on with her life. Jay figured she might've thought about hacking the hospital systems and shutting off his life support, but if she hadn't done that, maybe it said more about who she was than it did about Joker.

If he did roll over there and cap the Clown, it wouldn't be revenge. It'd just be like cleaning up a stain on the floor, saving someone else the trouble of having to handle it. Jay's life was actually pretty damn good lately, despite all that miserable laughing asshat had done to him. Joker didn't know anything about Kala, and having her in his corner soothed all kinds of things Jay thought were part of his personality, and now he was wondering if maybe they were just part of his coping mechanisms.

Despite that, which he just _knew_ Dick would call 'growth', part of Jay wanted to do it. Just so he could say it was done. And he didn't like the thought of killing someone, _anyone_, without being one hundred percent clear on why he was pulling the trigger. One thing he'd learned, cleaning up his act – it was damn easy to get used to killing. The first time was horrible, it'd kept him up for days, but by the time he'd come back to Gotham to reveal himself to Bruce it was no more upsetting than flicking cigarette ash off his jacket. And that … that wasn't who Jay wanted to be.

So, a distraction was a good idea. A change of scenery was even better. And seeing Kala for both was the best of all. She sounded like she needed it, too, to be trying to get away again within twenty-four hours, and when she arrived, the tremulous look on her face backed up that conclusion. Something was eating at her, then, and wouldn't let go. "I got your birthday present," he said when she touched down on the fire escape, and was immediately rewarded by her eyes brightening up. "It's not here 'til the weekend, though, so don't go searching my place for it."

She caught his meaning immediately and played into it with a grateful look as she climbed in the window with more grace than anyone else could manage. "Aww, Jay, come on. Don't do that to me," Kala said, and sure enough she was looking around, maybe even using x-ray vision. Probably not, but she wanted him to think so.

Jay pushed her shoulder playfully as she stood up. "Quit. It's custom ordered. Just clear up your schedule for Monday night, okay?"

Unexpectedly, Kala caught his hand and ducked, turning with the momentum until her back was to him. Leaning against him, she beamed that sunshine smile up at him impishly. So proud of herself. "I don't have a show, so I'm free. I bet you already checked the tour dates."

"Of course I did," he said, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing tight.

"Do I get a hint?" she asked, blinking at him charmingly.

Jay sighed, looking up, and finally said, "Okay, fine. Since you asked so nicely. Your gift weighs less than five hundred pounds." Which was _totally_ irrelevant to the actual gift, but served her right for being nosy.

"Snarky fuck," Kala grumbled insolently. Still smiling.

"You gonna hold on telling me where we're going?" he asked, pulling away from her reluctantly to head for the closet.

"Dress warm." The laugh she gave sounded a little nervous, just upping his curiosity. Looked like she might not have been _planning_ to keep it a secret, but since he gave her the idea and all…

Jay was fine with that. He didn't like Kala looking all miserable, and letting her tease him sure brightened her up quick. He dressed for a cold Gotham night, but Kala shook her head. "Got a heavier coat?" Just raising a brow at her, even more intrigued, he found a parka in the back of the closet, and Kala pronounced that good enough. "We'll be fine once we're inside, but the trip's pretty chilly."

"What, are we going to Antarctica to photograph penguins? Make Cobblepot jealous?" he asked.

This time when Kala laughed, it was free and lovely, the laugh that reached right down into his heart and shut up all his regrets and mistakes for a while. Those hazel eyes flashed with amusement. "No, Jay, we're going to the North Pole to petition Santa to take you off the naughty list."

"Never happen," Jay laughed back as he came back closer to her, and grabbed her butt to make her yip in surprise. "I'm dragging _you_ onto that list, K. Guilt by association."

Oh, that bratty, indignant look on her face, not to mention the way she narrowed her eyes at him. Just what he wanted to see. "Last I checked, I'm naughty enough on my own," she replied with a smirk, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. And then very deliberately giving his ass an affectionate squeeze, too.

God, they were a walking fucking ad for insulin. Any minute now there'd be a Wilford Brimley voice-over. "Lead on, K," Jay told her.

She did, taking them up from the fire escape, and they _were_ heading north, he saw. Maybe not to the pole, but somewhere way out past the last hints of civilization. The sky changed as they flew, looking like sunrise, and Jay figured they were up above the Arctic circle, for it to rise so late. And _then_ he realized where she was taking him, seeing their destination rising from the desolate icy plains ahead. "We're going to the Fortress?" What the hell was she doing, bringing him _here_?

"I've trusted you with everything else," Kala said softly. "And you stuck by me despite everything, the other night."

Hell, all he'd done so far was try to be a good partner, to be reasonable about everything that came their way. But he figured K was still kicking herself for all the stuff she hadn't told him about the house and Sebast, so this was her way of making sure he had the whole picture. Maybe she was regretting not telling Sebast about all this, too, in which case Jay was happy to pick up the slack.

Jay had seen pictures of it before somewhere. A great cluster of crystals thrusting up from Arctic ice, like some kind of impossible sci-fi story come to life. Which, it pretty much was.

The reality was a bit more … well, _more_ to start with. Pictures didn't convey the scale. Those big crystal columns? Were as thick as oak trees. And the interlocking crystals that formed the roof were a whole lot higher than he would've guessed. He and Kala were currently descending toward an opening in the roof, and Jay couldn't help flinching a little at the way those huge crystals seemed to lean toward him.

Kala gave a quiet chuckle, stopping to hover just beneath the overhang. There was a panel there for her to press her palm against, and a beam of light that scanned her retina. Jay tried not to look grumpy as he hung from her arm like so much laundry, but he _hated_ feeling useless. If the entrance had been from ground level, he could at least hike to it. But a ground level entrance had been what allowed Lex Luthor to sneak in once before, so now only fliers could even approach the security panel.

"Relax, Jay," Kala told him, as more crystals beneath them irised open.

"I am relaxed," he lied. "Please, if I let you fly me to Hong Kong, the Arctic Circle is nothing." That earned him a merry laugh as they dropped down into an immense chamber, easily as big as the Batcave. Unlike his family's base of operations, however, the room was softly lit, a faint silver-white glow that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

At least, until they touched down, when it became a golden-white glow all around them. Uncomfortably bright for Jay, especially with no clear source and no shadows. All his life he had watched the shadows for the faintest flicker of movement, of darkness concealed within darkness, and he had trusted those same shadows to serve him as cloak and misdirection whenever he needed. The lack of darkness here made him uneasy, as did the way the light seemed to follow them while they walked.

"Where's it coming from?" he finally asked, keeping close to Kala's side. Everything he could see was just subtly different from any architecture or décor from Earth; she was the only familiar thing here.

Except when she spoke, her voice was familiar in all the wrong ways, the tone and cadence reminiscent of a darker self. The Empress never failed to raise Jay's hackles—and not just his hackles, actually. He had to fight down the wave of arousal and concern when Kala answered blithely in that almost Shakespearean English, "You refer to the light? It comes from the crystals themselves. Solar energy is stored through the polar summer, and release it as necessary. The entire structure is sensitive to our presence, and lights only the rooms where we tread, unless instructed otherwise."

"Damn creepy, K," he said, deliberately slipping into the roughest diction and accent available to him, just for the contrast.

"It _is_ an alien stronghold. Were you expecting otherwise?" She turned to him with a smile, and Jay realized that even her stance and posture were different here. This _was_ the Empress, in a way, but not the side that was ferociously protective and prone to violence. This was Kala being a Kryptonian, and seeing her like this brought it home more sharply that she was half alien. Not that Jay minded.

Still, he followed where she led him, because trusting Kala was too deeply ingrained at that point for him to do anything else. She was right about that, this was more intimate in some ways than letting him into her body, and he could only respond by trusting her in return. And because, uncertain or not, Jay had always had a certain alley-cat curiosity to his nature that made him want to see more.

They passed into a new room, one where the floor dropped away in awkwardly steep terraces around a single promontory. Jay hung back as Kala walked out along its length, and then held out her hand, palm down. To his surprise, a new cluster of crystals grew out of the ground at her feet, shaping themselves into a sort of plinth—no, a console, he saw, made up of hollow crystal tubes. Kala plucked one from its place and set it into another tube in the center, and the entire console pulsed golden-white.

He knew _something_ was about to happen, there was something here she wanted to show him above all else, but Jay still wasn't prepared for the immense disembodied head that appeared in midair and addressed Kala in what had to be Kryptonese. He flinched backward, hand dropping to the butt of his gun, as the apparition gazed down at him.

"Greetings, Grandfather," Kala said, in that accented English. "Allow me to introduce you to my partner, Jason Todd."


	7. Sous-Entendu

You guys know we never give you a history lesson for no reason. Pay attention this chapter. This may be important later! 😉

* * *

Kala made the introduction, and turned to smile indulgently at Jay's expression. He was trying to process what she'd said—so this was Jor-El, Superman's father? The blue eyes looked familiar, at least. Now Jay remembered being told that this was a holographic display for an artificial intelligence program.

A freaking _giant_ hologram. Babs had her own display, he'd seen other holograms, but nothing this detailed or advanced. Kala spoke to it like it was a sentient _person_, not a program. And the way she spoke was trying to wake up all his internal alarms – she sounded like the Empress. She was demonstrably not freaked out though, so it was probably more accurate to say that Empress sounded like her, just now. This _was_ the most Kryptonian side of her, Kala Kal-El. He'd never heard her talk like this unless she was spun up, and wondered if the other two sounded the same up here.

"Partner?" the hologram asked in a questioning tone.

Kala replied with a word of Kryptonese, and then added, "Colleague would perhaps be the more correct term in English, but that denotes a relationship more distant and formal. Jason Todd and I have accumulated more trust in one another than that implies. He was my primary tutor in the martial arts, a significant form for defense, and I fight at his side in the battle against evil."

Jay wanted to snort at that, just how seriously she could say it, and Kala subtly smacked his arm, hard, out of sight. It sounded melodramatic as all hell, and Jay himself had been too close to evil to be so black and white about what they did. And the way she described him was even more amusing. Yeah, he'd been her teacher, and he was her lover, but the most important thing was that they were partners in the field who operated so deep in each other's heads that they barely needed signals. He _knew_ where Kala was going to be, and she knew what he would do, with hardly a word being exchanged. That kind of working relationship was way beyond colleagues and even the ordinary definition of partners. It was just _them_.

And then the hologram turned its attention to him. Those eyes were the size of basketballs, focused on him with intense precision, and despite the politely curious expression Jay fought the urge to take a step back. Most people didn't think of Kryptonians as cold or formal, but Kala had told him about the cultural differences. All the warmth and amiability that everyone associated with Superman was just part of Clark, not necessarily his lineage. This, the clinical intelligence in Jor-El's eyes, was more 'natural' to Kryptonians than the friendly smile the rest of the world knew.

"Greetings and welcome, Jason Todd," the voice said, a slight oddness to it—maybe an artifact of being produced by crystals. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Likewise," Jay said, dredging up the best behavior he'd never bothered to be on during many, many Wayne family functions.

Kala's smile was strangely enigmatic; Jay would've said he knew every micro-expression that flitted across her face, but this was different. "Grandfather, I believe the Giant Floating Head is somewhat discomfiting for Jason. Could you perhaps project something a bit more to scale?"

With that, the image vanished, replaced by the same man in glowing white robes, now their size and standing on the same crystal ledge. Jay managed not to jump in surprise at the sudden appearance; it was just a hologram, like the disembodied head. Still damn disconcerting; every hologram he'd seen before had a little shimmer or transparency to it, some indication that the image wasn't real. But this? This looked real enough to shake hands with, and only belatedly did he remember that Kryptonians didn't do that.

His gaze shifted past Jor-El to Kala, who had arched a brow impishly at him. Jay could almost hear her voice saying, '_Told you—alien'._ "Yeah, I get it, K," he said to her.

The hologram blinked, and Kala supplied, "Jor-El is not familiar with the percentage of slang used in ordinary speech in Gotham City. Grandfather, Jason Todd is the son of Father's colleague, the Batman. And it is customary amongst his team to refer to one another by initials, to preserve anonymity."

"Very reasonable," Jor-El remarked. "Tell me, Granddaughter, what is your reason for visiting the Fortress this day?"

"I wished to introduce you to Jason Todd," Kala said, eyes never leaving the AI and sounding all too solemn. "As he has become an important figure in my life through our association, I believe it necessary in the context of our work together that he be granted a great understanding of the whole of who I am."

At that, Jay could only blink. "Wow. K … I mean I understood, just not quite _this_ much." He gestured to the Fortress at large, and he did mean _large_. It was all incredibly foreign, and if he hadn't been Red Hood he would've described it as intimidating. Yet it was part of _her_, his friend, partner, trainee, and lover, the girl he would've sworn he knew better than himself.

She smiled at that and turned her head to look at him, the curve of her lips curled familiarly, giving a little nod. He could see her initial response in her eyes. _I know, right?_ "Most have that reaction on their first visit. Your father felt the same, I believe, but he is a man of few words." Kala looked off into the breadth of the main cave, her expression growing a little quieter, a little distant. "The whole of it is rather immense, is it not? It has been many years since I have seen it with fresh eyes. I was all of six years upon my first visit. Father tells me that I was unreasonably ecstatic over the event."

_I was screaming my head off and running everywhere, getting into everything,_ Jay read. He snorted in amusement, picturing it. His Kala wouldn't have been intimidated, not for long. She was probably climbing the crystal columns inside of a day, if Superman didn't stop her.

"It's freaking huge," Jay said aloud. "And I don't want to be rude, but I would love a guided tour. In a way, it's like the Cave, right? You've got a massive computer up here, and a trophy room…"

That brought her back, eyes gleaming as she attempted not to smirk, though that dark brow of hers arched up. _Really. Figures you'd know about that._ "It seems as if the man of few words does actually speak. Of all the wonders the Fortress holds, it does not escape me that that was what he remembered. Of course we may. Truly, that had been my intention all along."

Kala turned to the AI then, inclining her head slightly. "Grandfather, I have gained Father's permission for this visit, so as to not alarm others should something go amiss in our work. Allowing him access to our databases will aid him in defending against my weaknesses, as well as giving him the ability to soothe others in the event of those weaknesses. I would believe you trust that I shall not give away the keys to the kingdom or grant this wisdom lightly? I give my word that I will complete the data within his file as thoroughly as I can on returning, if it pleases you. There will be information that may prove potentially vital at some later date. Does that suit you?"

"That is acceptable," Jor-El replied, inclining his head the same way. "The Fortress is your legacy, Kala Kal-El, and you have long since demonstrated the responsibility to disclose its nature to whomever you choose."

What Jay saw then surprised him a little, Kala briefly looking down, closing her eyes, and biting her lip. When she finally looked up and responded, her face looked terribly young. A slight shine welled in her eyes, even in this light. "You do me great honor, Grandfather. I thank you for your words and your confidence in my actions. I will return before I depart. Sleep well until next we meet."

"You have earned every honor, Granddaughter. Safe travels to you and yours." With that, the hologram disappeared, and Jay relaxed minutely.

"So now I met your granddad," he said with a lopsided grin. "And I get to tour the family estate? Sweet."

Kala crossed her arms and then really did smirk at him. "It was necessary to begin the process of acquainting this world with your own. Tell me, are you no longer so intimidated, Jason Todd? For this is only the first sight of the world of Krypton you have beheld."

He took a rolling step toward her, hands tucked into his pockets and a broad grin on his face. "Not intimidated at all, if it's _you_. And contrary to popular belief, I do find this kind of history fascinating. Now lose the Royal Kryptonian Princess dialect before I have to smack your ass back down to Earth."

That was taken for the immediate challenge it was, Kala looked up at him with stern focus for a long moment, before dropping it utterly to grin right back. "Promises, promises. You are _so_ full of it, Jay. Don't think I didn't see the look on your face when we landed," she teased, but took his hand. "Come on, chicken. It's a ways up and there are a lot of rooms in this place. You talked so much about it; it's about time you saw what I really am."

"I know what you really are," Jay insisted, letting himself be tugged along. "The ultimate badass wrapped up in a pretty package. Guts and brains and one hell of a super-speed spin-kick. This is just background info—but don't get me wrong, I like it. No such thing as too much information."

She was laughing as they went, grinning at him. "And here he goes with the pretty words. You don't have to lure me into bed anymore, Jay, so you don't need to butter me up. And don't think I'm not going to remember the 'ultimate badass' comment next week sometime when you're bitching about me and some of my idiotic, crazy-ass game plans, okay?"

"Yeah, I'm probably gonna regret that," he admitted, knowing full well that it was still true. Jay frowned a little then, thinking. "Won't it get confusing, with Jason Todd and Jason Kent? Should you just have him call me Jay?"

She smirked at him. "We don't do nicknames. No Kryptonian would ever call my father Kal; a few of the League do, and he's fine with it, but names just aren't shortened like that. Women sometimes get first name only, because our surname is our father's full name until we get married. Hence Kala Kal-El … and Mom had no idea."

Jay nodded, and she continued, "Jase doesn't go by Jason here, either. Men don't get two-syllable names like that. As far as Jor-El is concerned, Jase is Jon-El."

"So El is the last name," Jay said aloud.

"It's the house name," Kala supplied. "Jon of the House of El, but you would never say Jon alone, because a Kryptonian man is nothing without his house. I called myself Kala of the House of El, once, but the proper translation would be Kala, daughter of Kal of the House of El. Which is obnoxious, but you know, you deal."

Jay looked at her, and said in serious tones, "Fuck the patriarchy."

Her smiled dazzled him. "And _that's_ why I sleep with you."

"Really? I thought it was the whole tastes-like-sunlight thing," Jay teased.

Kala put a finger over his lips, laughing. "The only bed in this place is the one I was conceived in, so let's _not_, okay?"

Jay started to laugh, then stalled. "Wait, up _here_? Whoa."

"Yeah, where do you think they disappeared to for a day and a half?" she asked, grinning. "That's why no one could find them."

He shook his head. "Great. You can leave the bedroom off the tour, thanks. I've met your parents, and that's not a visual I need."

It was Kala's turn to snort with amusement. "It _is_ a cool-looking bed, though. Anyway, come on, there's lots to see."

She started to tug him along again, then slowed as something occurred to her. Something that slowed that gaiety in its tracks. Kala stopped for a moment then as her smile faded around the edges, her gaze going to his as she turned slightly. "I honestly should have brought you up here months ago, but I wasn't sure, although it would have only been fair. Thank God you didn't walk into it blind, thinking I was a normal human. Like I did with someone else." Raising an eyebrow even as her brow furrowed slightly, she really looked at him. "It's not all as cut and dry as you think. There's still a lot about us, about me, that you don't understand. My father, my family, I mean, we're from another galaxy. Seriously, you just saw Jor-El and just the slightest inkling of the technology we have at our disposal and you still think this is normal?"

Jay just looked at her for a long moment. "You forget, I grew up a Superman fan. Somewhere I've still got a piece of tin he engraved his autograph on for me. I always knew the flying and the strength and the laser eyes came from another galaxy; I just didn't care because it was fucking _cool_. I mean, shit, _my_ dad goes around at night fighting bad guys with advanced tech and ninja skills while dressed like a freaking _bat_. My bar for 'normal' is basically gone."

"And none of that in my case ever really freaked you out before? Even before … well, us?" Her eyes jittered away from his then, swallowing hard. It was a topic the both of them tried to stay away from, but they never could entirely. At least he couldn't. "Not even the Empress? Seriously? I should have asked you before now, really, but…"

When he realized what she was really asking, Jay threw his head back and laughed. "No, Kala, I'm not freaked out by the fact that I'm fucking an alien. Whatever, you are _so_ not the weirdest entry in my sexual history. And as for the Empress, she's damn useful even if she is more of the 'roast first, ask question later' type."

With her arms crossed under her chest, she just gave him the usual exasperated frown. "Geez, thanks. Not exactly the way I would have put it, and thank you for lumping me in amongst the rest now, Red. No, it's just that a lot of people close to us know what we are and kinda take it for granted. The other aliens we know have a harder time passing for human; Kryptonians have no distinguishing features until we break out powers. That's a little more freaky than the fact that Princess Donna was made of dirt. I mean, you can know one of us for years, and facing the reality of just how different we are, despite the looks, can mess with some people's heads. I tried to be honest with you from the start."

"I knew what you were from the beginning. C'mon, I'm not like Sebast," Jay said, and immediately winced. "Wait, no, I didn't … aw, fuck. K, you know Donna and I went skipping across _worlds_ with Kyle. Not to mention Ra's al Ghul dies and comes back again like he's fucking Wile E. Coyote. J'onn has all the same strength as your dad _and_ telepathy, and he's obsessed with Oreos. Poison Ivy's basically a _plant_. You being an alien just isn't on my 'freakout' list, okay?"

Her lower lip was caught in her teeth, arms crossed. "It's just complicated, that's all. I've been spoiled a little, I guess. I was able to hide it for so long, I didn't even know what it would be like to tell someone. Except horrible, and look, I was right. You … you're the first one who ever knew, and I feel like I've kinda taken that for granted. Sad, but true." That little self-deprecating smile again, a slight shrug. "But I'm glad. I don't think about it too much. Never have. I always knew I was something different, even as a kid. Didn't really realize just how much of separate lives I was up to until both were established pretty well."

Talking about Sebast made Jay uncomfortable, and he shrugged, his shoulders staying just a bit hunched up. "You don't tell people who you are. You just _don't_. That's not just you, it's all of us. Which limits your dating pool to other capes, and people who don't know the whole truth. Plus the occasional villain, kind of a Daddy Bats specialty. If the civilians find out, then, that's different, but you don't tell them. Hell, your dad never told your mom, did he? Sebast needs to calm the fuck down."

"Thing is, Mom knew that she wanted the alien before she started to figure it out. This was the other way around. You do realize that this is completely the opposite of everything Sebast's known in his life, right? Other than just being a citizen of Metropolis, finding out his best friend was half alien was the strangest thing that happened to him. I hid my powers from him the whole time. Jay, it wasn't until I was sneaking off to Gotham every few days that he had the slightest clue. Can you imagine how much that has to freak someone out? I can't imagine how any of the others would have reacted."

It was only then that she glanced over again, seeing the look on his face. "Shit, sorry. I didn't mean to bring this up. I just … you're the one that gets it, you know? You knew who I was the moment I showed up, whether I wanted you to or not. I guess I just never expected anyone else to react otherwise." Kala caught his arm again, determinedly smiling, the cloud of seconds before forcibly dashed. "C'mon. Never mind me and my whining. I promised you a tour."

Privately, Jay still thought Sebast didn't have any room to complain. Yeah, Kala was half-alien, so what? The alien half was _Superman's daughter_. Instead of pursuing it, though, Jay just scoffed. "He'll be fine. But yeah, gimme the tour. Where do you keep the lasered-off heads of guys who treated you wrong?"

One raven brow arched up at him. "Better warn you, there's not any trophies of that type here. There was no enforced death penalty on Krypton. But there was the Phantom Zone. My grandfather was actually the one to discover that form of punishment, which had far worse effects than anyone expected. I think I told you a little bit about it before."

"Yeah, eternal imprisonment? I think I'd take death, personally," Jay said, falling into step beside her as she led the way. The crystals around them were lighting up as they moved, which Jay was gradually finding less creepy and more efficient.

Kala brought him down into the same chamber where they'd seen the hologram, only at floor level there was a truly massive column of crystal. When Kala held her hand out to it, it pulsed with light bright enough to make Jay close his eyes. "Medical diagnostic," Kala said. "It sees better than x-ray, better than MRI. Right down to microscopic analysis if necessary. And it's tied into the computer, so results can be logged, analyzed, and discussed with Jor-El. As a matter of fact, the AI is seeded throughout every level, not just in the father crystal I used a minute ago. Every bit of data in the whole computer can be run past him if necessary."

"Sounds a little Big Brother to me," Jay said dubiously, squinting at the crystal. "I know your family. There's gotta be a reason one of these isn't in every hospital in the world."

"It's too delicate to really operate anywhere outside a crystal matrix building," Kala said with a sigh. "In a regular hospital, half the readings would be messed up. That, and it has to touch the skin to analyze you. Most people hate getting in an MRI because of how closed up it is. Can you imagine asking John Q. Public to lie down and let this sucker come sliding down to his chest?" To demonstrate, Kala laid her hand down on the smooth crystal surface beneath the diagnostic crystal.

It made the same creepy sliding-chiming kind of sound the console had made, and a twenty-foot crystal the width of a mature oak glided down to rest on her palm. Jay winced just looking at it; the damn thing had to weigh two or three tons. "Jesus fuck, if that thing slipped…"

"It doesn't," Kala said, sliding her hand out from under it. "It stops at contact, there's no real pressure. But no ordinary person would sit still with it coming down on them."

"I damn sure wouldn't, and I trust you to fly me around," Jay said with a shiver. The crystal had a _point_, it could just spear you if it did drop. More squish than spear, actually—getting that thing dropped on you would be like stomping on a jelly doughnut.

He heard Kala laugh lightly. "I've said it before, I'll say it again. There's a reason why you wear that hood. Your expression? So easy to read. Let me guess. Squashed to ooze? They're as strong as diamond, Jay. Actually, it takes a diamond-tipped drill to even chip it. But yeah, that's why it's a no-go. Honestly, it really sucks how much good the things we know would do if it could survive on the outside or if the usage didn't get twisted by someone else's plots." It was clear that she was implying Luthor and the fuckery he'd pulled over the last few years.

"The diamond thing isn't helping, K. At least squashed to ooze under a diamond is a classy way to go," Jay tried to joke. He had to shrug at that poorly-veiled complaint, though. "Same thing as most of our tech. If Wayne Enterprises released half the shit we've got locked up in R&D, every militia on Earth would be all over it. It's the way of the world. As soon as someone invents something cool, some fucker figures out how to make it a weapon." Men like Luthor were unfortunately par for the course in their world.

"Says the man who might as well have a Gatling gun strapped to his shoulder." Her grin was teasing, then she added a little more Kryptonian trivia to the board. "Actually, we've gotten a little lucky on that one. Lex has found out about some of the lower tech, but thank God, he hasn't figured out how to access the schematics of the stuff used in the wars of Old Krypton. Pretty sure Grandfather has them sealed so tight that it'd take an act of Rao to unlock it outside the proper key-codes. I think Bruce would wet himself if he knew the kind of arsenal we'd be capable of if it interested Dad."

With that kind of weaponry, Bruce might piss himself, but Jay would probably cream his jeans—and the thought certainly showed on his face. "Well, hell, who needs weapons when you can make s'mores with your eyes?" he said, trying to sound casual. "At least Luthor hasn't gotten into any of it."

"You're really bad at hiding it, Jay. You're even worse at hiding it from me." Now she was leading the way further back into the crystalline structure. "It's in the history console near the trophy room. After Luthor's little break-in when I was a kid, Dad and Jor-El redesigned a little bit. Not all of the information on our people is stored in one place and in one crystal. Unless you know what you're looking for and what each area here correlates to, good luck easily finding anything. To say we're a little more cautious now would be an understatement."

He could only shrug. Busted—but what else did she expect? Jay was a fighter by upbringing, inclination, and training. He couldn't help but take notice of new weapons and the advantages thereof. "Of course. Having your whole cultural history hijacked by a greedy asshat like Luthor will do that. I'm surprised you don't have, like, crystal attack golems." A thoughtful pause, and then he added, "You don't have those, do you?"

Now she openly laughed, that silvery and honest laughter that was totally genuine. "No, Jay, no crystal golems. Computerized weaponry to discourage unexpected and unwanted visitors and a robot or two, but somehow someone forgot to make that an option. You know, I remember hearing a story in the history lessons that there was something maybe similar that was grown during the Wars. It was organic, though. But that experiment came to a bad end."

"With the kind of tech your grandpa had available, I'm glad we never got to see anything that came to a bad end," Jay muttered, his shoulders tensing for a few seconds. The notion of such knowledge and power making mistakes … mistakes that _his_ world might have to clean up … well, it wasn't so surprising, but he was glad it hadn't happened yet.

They came to another room, this one looking almost like a museum. There were displays of sculptures and images, including some holograms. In the center of the room was a scaled-down version of some immense domed building, made of the same white crystal as the Fortress itself. Even this small model somehow managed to convey the mass of the real thing. Jay shook off his pessimistic thoughts to approach it. "Whoa, what's that?"

Kala walked behind him slowly, crossing her arms as she came. "That would be the Council Dome. The largest structure on Krypton in its last age. Most of the major decisions were made by a group of thirteen members from the oldest noble families. They were some of the brightest minds, but not always the most enlightened. Grandfather held a seat on the Council, which was part a salvation and part a tragedy, I think." Her expression had clouded over again, her brow furrowed.

Jay knew a little of the history. "The Science Council, they were the ones who said your granddad was wrong and the planet wouldn't explode, weren't they? Too scared of what that would mean to let themselves see it." He scoffed at that, having no patience for fools. But Kala had said something that piqued his curiosity. "How was Jor-El being on it both good and bad, K?"

He'd seen that look before, that look that said she had a lot on her mind at the same time that it said that the contents were loaded for bear. Kala took a deep breath, only to sigh it back out. "It was good because Jor-El was at ground zero to know exactly what the conditions were, try to prevent their foolishness, and to find a way out for his only son. The bad was the fact that the cowards drove the final nail in the family curse coffin. They decided that _he_ would be the one to have the deciding vote in a very important trial, one that had been followed by the populace as a whole. And it's doomed the House of El ever since."

Something about that, either the tone of her voice or her careful phrasing, put the hair up on the back of Jay's neck. An important trial that had doomed her whole family…? "Ah, shit," he muttered. "It was Zod, wasn't it?"

Kala looked at him with distant eyes. "Follow me," she said, and they left the museum-room to go to another, which stayed strangely dark when they entered. Kala held her hand above a cluster of crystals in the floor, and by then Jay had gotten sort of used to the way the control panels grew up towards her. This was a much smaller grouping that emitted a ball of golden light.

With a few small gestures in the light, Kala seemed to be scrolling through some kind of menu, Kryptonese lettering floating in the middle of the room. When she found what she wanted, she closed her hand into a fist twice, and the light went out. Kala stepped back, and for the first time since they'd landed, her other hand crept into his. Her fingers were cold.

"It's just a recording," Kala told him, and then the trial of General Zod began to play in full 3D.

Through it all, Kala stood silent, pale, and still, eyes never leaving the projection. The shiver that ran across her skin wasn't normal for her; even at the worst of times, her high body heat prevented her from feeling the worst of any weather. There were only two things that triggered that reaction in her and this was the one he'd only been told about. The couple of times he looked over at her, he'd been about to tell her to cut it off, but she squeezed his hand just enough to quell his urge.

"You will bow down before me, Jor-El! I swear it! No matter that it takes an eternity, you _will_ bow down before me! Both you, and then one day, _your heirs!_" Zod roared, and damned if he didn't look just as insane as any of Gotham's rogues. Pure frothing rage at being defied, the incomprehension and madness when the world stopped spinning to his whim. Jay shivered just a little at the violence of it, and that was just his _voice_. At the time this had been recorded, none of them had had powers. That all came later, on Earth. All Zod had in that moment was his wrath.

And he'd made it work, too, in the end. He'd left his mark on the House of El for all time. He was the reason Kala's parents split up before either of them knew her mom was pregnant. He was the underlying reason Superman withdrew from Earth and tried to find the remnants of Krypton. Lex Luthor had helped, of course, but if he hadn't tried to step away from humanity after one disastrous attempt to live as one of them, Kal-El likely wouldn't have been tempted.

If not for luck, and the inextinguishable spark of sunlight in Kala's heart, he might've won again. And Jay had no desire to explore the bleak future she'd once painted for him, if Zod had managed to completely sway her.

He had no idea what to say. At last, Jay just turned and hugged her, squeezing Kala tight. "Thank God you killed the fucker," he muttered.

It was clear that she was startled when he held her, but after a pause, her arms went around him, one encircling his back while the other stole up to curl in the hair at the back of his head. Her face buried in his neck, cool, so cool, Jay could feel her shudder deeply. He expected tears, it would be a given at a time like this, but she only shivered, clutching him just as tightly. After a time, she whispered out, "I … I almost didn't. I was … a big enough idiot that I believed him, believed in what he had … planned. It was only when he took after Jason that I realized what … what I'd set in motion. I nearly got my whole family killed, Jay. Just because I wanted to mean something. Just because I thought I was special somehow. And he knew it."

"But you _do_ mean something," he told her, holding Kala away from him just enough to look her in the eyes. "And you _are_ special. Holy shit, how many people do think show up with a power-set like yours and would never _dream_ of bleeding it all down to nothing just so they can learn to be a better fighter? How many people do you think walk away the first time they hear some shit like 'Goth Barbie'? Or the fifth? Or the fiftieth? How many people do you think I've met, in everywhere I've gone and everything I've done, who could stand up to _me_ and prove me wrong?"

Jay gave her a tiny shake. "K, listen. You were young and kinda dumb, and you fell in with someone much older and more experienced who had plans for you. You _almost_ didn't wake up in time to kill him, but almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades. Isn't that what they say? You snapped out of it, you put his ass down, and the world's a better place for it. So quit kicking yourself."

"I can't, Jay!" And despite the fear that still lingered, there was anger, too. A deep and complicated anger that, nonetheless, wasn't aimed at him. "I _can't_. Because if I do, it could happen again. That's how we got the Empress in the first place." Now the shine began in her eyes, though they were the furious variety of tears. Her chin was up, defiant. "And she might be a little tamer, but she's not _gone_, Jay. Like it or not, we both know that I'm a weapon of mass-destruction if I ever forget."

He tightened his grip on her shoulders. "Yeah, you have the power to be a weapon, but you're more than that. Given that I've been armed and aimed by someone else, I'd know the difference between being some_one_ and being some_thing_. Know what you are, K, but don't ever think that's _all_ you are."

She nodded slowly. "Still. This, among other reasons, is why Jor-El should never have been pressured to try and convict his closest friend. The First Elder should have had enough guts to do his dirty work for himself. I have blood on my hands because of something that happened two generations before I was born, and I can never take it back. And I'll always carry the legacy of that guilt. That's why it's both salvation and damnation."

He didn't like her bleak, fatalistic tone, and Jay scowled at her, trying to figure out how to make her see herself the way he did. "So the fuck what? You think _I_ couldn't snap and take out half a city? I may not have your raw power, K, but I know how to do this shit better than you do. I fucking went to super-villain college, for chrissake—and my graduate adviser was someone called the Daughter of the Demon! I know a few things about mass fucking destruction. You can make the Empress work for you the same way I make all the deadly shit I learned work for me. But it doesn't do you any good to keep tearing your hair about it. You fucked up, you've got scars where they don't show, but you don't give up or give in, and you'll end up all right."

That seemed to take the wind out of her sails pretty quickly, though the gleam still glittered in her eyes. Kala was shaking her head at him, biting at her lower lip. She took a deep breath in, shuddered a little, closing her eyes. "How the fuck do you know that? God, Jay, how is it you can see all this in me that I can't? I mean, how are you not scared of all this shit in my head when half the community freaks over what they know and that's not even a third of the truth?" The look she gave him then was so torn, it actually hurt.

"Because I have to convince myself of it every day? Jesus fuck, K, you're talking to the guy who packed eight drug dealers' heads into a goddamn duffel bag _just to make a point_. If I can be wearing a JLA comm and working with the good guys, you can be excused a little crispy-frying here and there. The only one who won't forgive you is you." Jay took a deep breath, and stepped back, shrugging the tension out of his shoulders. "Besides, the Empress only crops up when your ass is in deep shit, or when someone you care about is. She doesn't come out to play just to burn her initials across Gotham."

She was silent then, dropping her eyes with a sigh. Looked like maybe he had gotten through to her this time. "I'm an asshole. This wasn't why I brought you here, Jay. The whole point was to show you the whole package, not just my monumental fuck-up." Her hazel eyes glanced up then, rubbing her forehead. A tiny little smile then, sheepish and shaky, when she murmured, "Maybe you have a point. But you needed to see at least some of it. You showed me yours. If I can't show you even a part of mine after this long… Really, Jay, I'm sorry."

"No worries, K. We've been through enough, I'm okay with seeing the whole history. You're not an asshole, either. That's _my_ job description." He grinned, and as if to prove it, added, "The whole you-show-me-yours-and-I'll-show-you-mine thing usually means getting _naked_, though, so unless you wanna go _there_…" The laughter brimming in his voice made it clear that he was just giving her hell.

He saw the warning look begin to furrow her brow, but she lobbed it back just as quickly. "So not only do you manage to make me swear, repeatedly, in the Fortress, we attempt to scandalize the computer by hinting at sex. What a shame you already know about the bed situation. Can't blame you for trying to deflect. I'd think you've seen enough of my drama to last a lifetime." With that, she gave him a pretty good approximation of her usual come-hither smirk and strolled out of the room, back out into the main hallway.

"The only thing I've seen enough of for a lifetime is General Creepy there," Jay shot back. "You? You're decorative, K."

"Oh, so _that's_ what I am to you. Decorative, huh?" Jay could hear the smirk in her voice. "Explains a lot. Thankfully for you, looking's free. Again, such a shame. Shall we look into the armory? What's not there can be accessed by a database." Now she did bother to look over her shoulder, and yep, the right side of her lip was curled up mockingly. "That I at least know will hold your attention."

"You hold my attention just fine, K," he told her, dropping back half a pace to more obviously admire the sway of her hips. "The fact that you can handle any weapon, or go without 'cause you've got 'em built in, just ups the ante. But yeah, armory sounds good. Do I get any souvenirs to take home?"

"Yeah, just lay on the flattery, Red. I think I've heard all of your lines by now." But she was grinning a little now. Must have caught the 'souvenirs' reference. "And sure, like Dad wouldn't notice. Not to mention Jor-El. Although I don't think you noticing and modifying things back home could hurt too much. That much I can comfortably explain away if anyone catches wind of it."

"You know just how to make my day," he laughed easily. "Let me guess, though. All the weapons are made out of crystal, too, right? That might be a _bit_ noticeable in Gotham."

She must have noticed something in his tone, though, because she stopped and turned to face him. Kala seemed to consider him then, one raven eyebrow arched and a tiny frown on her face, before responding, "Actually, not wholly. The original weapons from the Wars were a bit more like Earth's, if what we'd call pretty hi-tech. It was only as time passed on and the planet itself began to change that the crystals were put into play on such a grand scale. There's probably a trick or two we could use. It would startle the hell out of Bruce, at least. That is, if you see anything you like."

Interesting. He'd always thought of Krypton, once he knew anything at all about it, as being heavily involved in the crystal technology. Hell, they could grow a house—or a Fortress—entirely out of the stuff, and get all the functions they needed from it. Power, light, water purification, temperature regulation, computing, the works. The fact that there were other methods and mediums available intrigued Jay. "I'm sure I can find something I like," he said, grinning wolfishly at her.

She smirked that time, a tempting little curve of her lip that meant she was leaving the shadow of Zod behind her, for now. "Hmm. I wonder if you're talking about more than weaponry. C'mon, Big Bad, it's this way."


	8. Nor Am I as Eloquent

**Authors' Note:** Coauthor Anissa managed to throw her back out today, and was a little distracted by pain while doing the upload. She accidentally posted the un-polished version of the chapter. So if you saw this before 7:30 PM, you should probably reread it. Sorry for the mixup!

* * *

Jay snorted at the nickname—for some reason Kala loved to call him the Big Bad Hood, as if he were a wolf or something. Well, he'd joked often enough about rearranging the words a bit so she was Riding Red Hood. Even though she'd never really been the kind of girl who had to be careful in the deep, dark forest. Kala brought her own light. And no woodsman was needed to save her, either, not that she'd ask to be rescued.

But once they started actually _looking_ at the weapons, well … Jay didn't _quite_ drool. By a very narrow margin, he somehow managed not to. Instead he looked with hungry eyes at plasma rifles and smaller pistols that used the same deadly fuel. There were energy lances, too, but projectile weapons were more his style than anything so like a sword. Jay even found himself staring at the battle armor on display, its ornate patterns hypnotic. It shared little with the sleek, stark garments that he'd seen in holograms, which Kala explained by stating that it and some of the weapons came from an older age of Krypton. Before the wars and plagues that had made their society so antiseptic.

The older stuff was all organic curves, beautiful and deadly as a hurricane. He could see Kala wearing something like this and terrifying the shit out of half the rogues. Hell, Jay could see _Superman_ wearing something like this and making _all_ of them piss themselves. Then again, that was most of the reason why they wore bright capes instead of bold armor: the House of El was supposed to be a symbol of hope for Earth, not dominion. Still, it was fucking gorgeous, and Jay had no idea he'd muttered that aloud.

"It is, isn't it?" Kala stood next to him, arms crossed. Contemplation and a little regret were in her voice as she sighed, "There are times that I think it's a shame that some of this doesn't see the light of day, but it's far stronger defense than anything Earth needs about half the time. And even then, there's us and our power set. Supers can be scary enough if they see us as a threat with those, sometimes. But, yeah, it really is. Jase and I even know how to use the lances, but they're restricted to emergency purposes, period. I think Dad's more than a little freaked over some of this stuff. Way more firepower than he's willing to show. To the point that I'm pretty sure that yours are the first non-Kryptonian eyes to see them. Bruce would be _faaar_ too interested, I know that. We all have our little secrets." Her hazel eyes shifted to his blue. "Never say that I don't trust you, Jay. I'm not even sure how much of this place Dad showed the others, and I know Jase didn't show any of this part to Elise. Not that she was interested – any time she comes up, she's glued to the diagnostic crystal, researching all kinds of microbiology and chemistry stuff."

Surely there was some quip he could make, maybe something about how she hadn't needed to take the joke about showing him hers so very literally, but for once Jay's snark was silenced. Was he really the _only_ human who had ever stood in this room, staring at these artifacts? Not even Bruce—not even the Batman who knew everything about everything—had seen this?

"I know you trust me," he finally said in the low voice Kala knew meant utter seriousness. "Shit, K, I think trust's a foregone conclusion with us by now. But this … this is something special. And you're right, it probably shouldn't get any wider exposure. If the general public knew the kinds of weapons tech you had, they'd flip. Not to mention the masks." He managed not to touch the gauntlet of the armored suit before him, despite the fact that it seemed to call out to him.

Kala gave a little laugh at that, her smile flashing briefly. "Tell me about it. You haven't actually seen the footage of the battles some of this stuff was fought in. Or how deadly they can be. It might have been over a thousand years ago back on Krypton, but they'd look at me even more sideways than they do now. Like they could, really. 'Oh, that's where she gets it from'. If they even knew half of the history…" Kala huffed out a laugh, fidgeting with the zipper at her throat.

Jay nodded slowly. "Yeah, they'd take it the wrong way. But you know, if you ever wanna have a movie night, I _like_ martial arts films. I bet we'd have more fun than watching _The Matrix_, and less to tear down."

That startled her out of that dark mood, those hazel eyes wide at his for a moment before she broke out in ringing laughter before she leaned into him. "You just … _ugh,_ you irrepressible fucking man, you."

Laughing, he nudged his nose against hers. "Hey, I'll take that. No sane man could repress himself around you, anyway." That earned him a kiss that spoke volumes. They'd successfully crossed some deep, potentially dangerous topics, and he preferred to keep them on lighter ground.

"Thank you. For getting it. And not running," Kala sighed, leaning her forehead against his, pulling back a little to shake her head with a smirk. "You are the only person I know who'd find an excuse for double entendre in all this."

He could only shrug. "Look, K, I don't know how else to explain it. Yeah, this is freaky, and yeah, the public doesn't need to know that the Supers haven't all been pacifists for all of history. But I'm not that easily scared off. I knew most of your deal before we'd ever really met."

He had a point, she knew he did; but after keeping Sebast in the dark had backfired so spectacularly, Kala needed to be as transparent as she could. Giving a quiet nod, she gave a telling sigh. "Yeah, you saw my file and didn't falter once. Pushed me forward, anyway. And now you've added to it. I just … it was only fair. With everything you've told me, I needed someone to know all of it, even if there was a chance that the Goddamn Batman could find out. I figured that the easiest way to do that was to bring you here."

Jay nodded, thoughtful. "I know, K. I gave you my file, too. It's good to have someone who _gets it_. We know just about everything there is to know about each other; we're partners." He rubbed the small of her back gently, reflectively, then a little spark of mischief lit his eyes. "Besides, I had to update the file to include all the ass-kicking I taught you how to do. The student is a reflection of the master, and all that."

That brought her head up, that defiant look in her eyes. Kala stuck her tongue out at him, as he'd hoped. "I told you over the summer I wasn't gonna call you sensei. Or master. I'm not just your protege at this point, last time I checked. Or at least, I'd better not be." She arched her brow at that; that was his girl, always keeping him in check.

Jay just smirked. "Hey, the best way to make sure you've got a good partner is train one up yourself. Why do you think Daddy Bats does it that way?"

"Oh, is that the way of it?" She took a step back to give him that sarcastic glare that was so her, crossing her arms as stared him down. "Got news for you, smart guy: I'm _not_ your Robin, in any way, shape, or form."

His eyes sparkled; they'd successfully dodged deeper waters, and she played right into his trolling. "Why not? You got the puns and everything. I'd like to see you running around in the outfit. Got the legs for it."

She just rolled her eyes, her grin creeping back at that. "First of all, Red, you couldn't handle it. I _know_ you. Second, you should be glad I'm not as proper a Kryptonian as I wanted to be back in the day, or you would've never seen my legs at all. Technically my uniform is within the rules, but it would've had a flowing robe over it." She paused then, looking puzzled for a second, then shrugged. "Which, if I'm honest, I guess the trench would have originally covered, first time out. I didn't even think about that. Anyway, you've seen now that most Kryptonians didn't dress like this. Except soldiers. Which, I guess, I did deliberately. Huh."

He saw the shadow in her eyes, thinking of Zod, and Jay nudged her out of it. "I'm glad you're a deviant, K. I'd really miss that filthy human connection we have."

She scoffed, and said something in Kryptonese; by the tone and her expression, she'd called him something. "What's that?" Jay asked, grinning. "Was that the Kryptonese word for 'horndog'?"

…

Kala laughed, not even aware that she'd spoken in her own language just then to tell him _he_ was the deviant. She was clearly getting too deep into her own head here in the Fortress when the native language just rolled off her tongue. Especially when using that particular term. Not that it didn't suit. "No, it was basically 'pervert'. 'Horndog' is far too slang. And too human," she teased, flushing a bit.

"You're one too," Jay pointed out. "You're right there with me. Hell, the other night _you_ started it _and_ you were on top."

How that shocked her after everything else, she'd never know, and worse, he was right. _Dammit, Red. _Unable to stop the way it brought a blush to her face, she shot him a wide-eyed reproving look. "Stop it, you. The AI can hear you! Quit it." She should have known he'd do this; the more caught up in Krypton she got, the more he would remind her how human she was, as well. Still, there were some things she just couldn't and wouldn't say up here. Even with him tempting her.

He cocked his head, mischief in his gaze, and said, "Tell me in your language."

This damn man, never frightened, not even slowed down by who and what she was. And she rose to it every time, uncovering things about herself that she had always been too frightened to show others. Afraid that they wouldn't understand, even as she was so defiant about how different she was. The freedom with Jay made her almost giddy at times, letting go after so long. It was like free-fall and she had never known how to resist the tug of that euphoria. Beaming, laughing a little, she spoke swift syllables with a soft z in there somewhere, and then Kala smacked his arm lightly. "There, now you can say 'Stop behaving like a child' in Kryptonese."

"Oh, I'm a child now?" he laughed. "What does that make you? What's the Kryptonese for cradle-robber?"

That earned him an utterly incredulous look. _Oh, you __**asshole**__!_ "You're _older_ than me, you jerk," Kala laughed back.

"Yeah? What's the Kryptonese for jerk?"

He was _not _giving up. There wasn't a literal translation, so Kala called him a pest instead. Grinning, Jay responded with something Slavic-sounding, and even though she didn't know the language, she gave him a shove on general principles. The _tone_ was indication enough. "I _know_ that was something dickheaded, you asshole," she snapped, but she was smiling, swatting at him. He always knew how to get her to play.

"C'mon, K, I'm trying to learn the fun words first. Cuss me out in Kryptonese," Jay retorted.

Oh, she should have seen that coming, too. Her utterly-irrepressible heathen would want nothing less, always pushing past the line. "Hate to disappoint you, and as much as I'd like to right now, I can't, Robin," she laughed. "I mean it. Literally, I can't. There's no record of any profanity. The closest you're getting is like, deviant and brat."

"That's a shame," Jay said, looking somber. "A whole language worth of obscenities, lost to time."

As usual, he had the ability to make her want to facepalm in the most epic of fashions. "Heartbreaking, I know. Devastating, honestly. Because the main recipient of the knowledge uses so much of it," she snarked, just thinking of her father's reaction. He rarely even said 'damn', and the salty vocabulary Kala had acquired from her mother made him look pained. "I mean, we don't even know if they _had_ profanity to start with," Kala began, and he cut her off.

"Every language has profanity," Jay insisted. "Shit, every single language I know has a short phrase that means 'your mom's a whore', and it's usually a killing insult. The more repressed they are, the filthier the curses."

Kala had to blow out a sigh, shaking her head with a roll of her eyes. Having been surrounded by boys most of her life, this surprised her not at all. "Charming. More the woe that the worst thing we have to call someone is 'fatherless'. Which I technically was for six years, when you think about it." The reality of it used to hurt a lot more than it did now, but she was old enough at this point to shrug it off. Despite having him in her life daily by then, the thought of being considered not only 'deviant' for the circumstances of her natural birth, but 'fatherless', as well… It hadn't sat well with her in the aftermath of Dru-Zod's influence. Thankfully, carefully-veiled discussions with Dr. Marrin about those issues and their reflections in cultures around the world had lessened it. Earth was not Krypton; she was beyond their fears and prejudices. She was more.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled herself back out of the dark thoughts, meeting Jay's questioning gaze again. "It means more than just 'bastard', it's like … no history, no ancestry, no _name_. Basically, you don't exist. We only have that because there's one record of someone who literally didn't know his house name, back in the old days, and he tried to take that word as his surname to pretty much to flip everyone else off. All the rest, whatever existed, Jor-El didn't copy it into the files. Likely to not pass the vulgarity on to the last of his kind, his only surviving descendants. Not that he had really planned any except Dad, of course. "

"Lame," Jay complained, his irreverence making her snicker. "But I admire the balls on that one guy. Did they let him do it?"

"No, because just speaking his name would've been unforgivably rude. Jay, we're talking about a culture that has natural gendered nouns, and uses the gender-neutral in all cases except where absolutely necessary. It's actually an insult to used the gendered form when you don't have to." Kala shook her head. "He ended up getting adopted into one of the leading families, I think. They admired his courage. Mom was hoping he was one of ours, turned out it was the House of Van, if I remember right. Which would be my paternal grandmother's side of things. Which means that he wasn't an El, technically, no genes added on the patriarchal side, but still … Related." She couldn't resist a laugh at that.

"She would," Jay chuckled. "Your mom's a spitfire. C'mon, K, say something else in Kryptonese."

That surprised her a little, but Kala knew it probably shouldn't. As much as she expected all of this to give him pause, he hadn't faltered for more than a few seconds. Not the reaction she had expected, especially here, even if he had taken almost everything else in stride. Maybe he was right; maybe she was too worried about something she shouldn't be. And it was damn clear that he hadn't planned to back away, even knowing how deep things were. That alone made her want to drag him off into a secluded corner, hidden somehow from the memories and ghosts of Krypton's past. Lose herself in him until she could see it all through his eyes. Instead, knowing she couldn't bring herself to do that here, she cut him a skeptical look and tossed off a challenge to distract herself. "I'd better not. Sounds like you're developing a fetish, Robin."

He smirked, and said something quickly in Cantonese that she only caught about half of – a dare, and he was calling her a coward for not taking him up on it.

That would not do at all. He knew better. Before she even considered it, Kala blurted out that he was a bothersome child, and saw his eyes flash as he caught the same syllables as before. Kala corrected it to bothersome _boy_, the vowel shift making the noun masculine – and in this context, intimate rather than insulting.

"Still calling me a kid?" Jay laughed. "I was looking for _new_ vocabulary. Tell me something better than that, K."

He brought her out of herself, even here, where she felt so divided between worlds. Where she sometimes questioned where her future lay, or who she wanted to be. As beautiful as this place was, as stunned and awed as she had been for so very long, the Fortress had known very little laughter. Only she and Jase's own as children, so very taken by their Daddy Clark's 'crystal castle'. Even for Mom and Dad, this place had been the setting for only a few scant hours of joy, of finding one another at last, only to lose it all in the same place within a day. Their chance lost to them even as she and her twin had begun to grow inside Lois' womb.

In his unknowing way, Jay made his mark on this place with this visit, just as he had on her. And she had never been so grateful for him. _You mean too much to me,_ Kala said, suddenly and carelessly, only realizing the words once they were out. Everything in her froze, not daring to breathe, knowing how fond her expression had been when she had spoken. They didn't do major declarations like that, and not _here _of all places. God, he just utterly scuttled her at times, unable to believe the things she had just done.

His blue eyes bored into hers, Kala holding her breath, but Jay only smiled. "Did you just tell me I have a great ass in Kryptonese? It sounded complimentary, at least."

God only knew what conclusions he was coming to over it, but it looked like he wasn't going to pursue it. That left her almost light-headed with relief. "Something like that. Never mind, enough with the language jokes, " Kala said, trying to make herself laugh. "Do you want to see something really cool?"

"I'm already lookin' at ya," Jay replied just as swiftly.

And just like that, with something as goofy and sweet as it was, Kala felt herself chancing the danger again, just to hear the words aloud. He couldn't know, didn't want to know, but he never needed to. Just to say it once would be enough. Softly, she murmured, _I want you to stay. Please, do not run as you have before. Stay with me._ Her tone would make it sound like something else, some gentle remonstrance for his endless teasing, and Kala had no intention of translating that. _No one_ had a working Kryptonian to English dictionary, anyway, so Jay couldn't translate it. Thank God.

But maybe he had an inkling, and was as leery of planning ahead as she was. Jay nodded, solemn for a moment, but he couldn't resist following up on her attempt to redirect the conversation. "Seriously, though, you've got something cooler than those weapons?"

And just like that, the moment was over, and her equilibrium returned. They had come close again, maybe too close, but they hadn't gone too far. Their status quo remained the same. Just as they wanted it. There was more to life than words, right? More than believing in something that might not exist for some people, not the way those people said it did. Not everything was a fairytale. Gotham wasn't a fairytale. They would take what they could get. Kala took a deep breath, and kept her tone light. "Dunno, Red. You tell me: is there anything cooler than interstellar spacecraft?"

"Only stellar girlfriends," Jay teased, and hugged her for a brief moment. "C'mon, show me the rocket ship. Is it the one your Dad arrived in?"

"The second time, yeah," Kala replied, feeling like she'd dodged a bullet, and led him off to the workshop area.

…

Lois growled at the front page layout in front of her. It looked _wrong_ to her editorial instincts, but she couldn't quite define _why_. Or how to fix it. Everything was done on the computer now, and she fussed with the layout a little, clicking and dragging, wishing for the days when they did this with cut-out bits of newsprint. It all just felt more real to her with actual paper in her hands. But time and technology were moving ever onward, and if the _Daily Planet_ was going to survive in the digital age, its city editor had damn well better stay ahead of the curve.

She was in the office late, with almost no one else around, and when the elevator doors dinged open her head came up sharply. Even all these years later, Lois' hand still dropped to her purse automatically. Too many encounters with rogues, too many years of making enemies of her own, and Lex still out there and occasionally casting trouble her way had made the protective instincts too deeply-graven in her at this hour. Thankfully, it was only her husband, who looked around to make sure they were alone in the City room before he approached her office. Lois smiled up at him, and as he opened the door she asked, "Here to drag me home kicking and screaming, Mr. Kent?"

"I know better, Ms. Lane," he said with a smile. "Although it'd be worth it for the rumor mill. If the custodial staff saw me carry you to the elevators slung over my shoulder…"

"No one would believe it. And if anyone did, they'd start putting money aside for your funeral expenses." They shared a laugh over that; time had not mellowed Mad Dog Lane, and no one who knew her well wanted it to happen, anyway.

"What's keeping you late, honey?" he asked, and Lois pushed her monitor around so he could see the offending layout. "Hmm. Yeah, I don't quite like it either, but I can't see what's wrong."

"That's the hell of it. If only I knew how to fix it," Lois grumbled, glaring at the layout.

He pulled up a chair and sat down across from her. "Maybe what you need is to get your mind off it for a moment or two, let your subconscious sort it out."

Like it or not, the man had a point. "Probably. But there's not much that takes my mind off work, when I know this goes to press in the morning." Lois rubbed her temples, closing her eyes.

He gave a soft laugh. "Well, there's one thing I know will distract you."

Even after this long, she felt a shiver whenever he did that. Just using that tone brought back a ridiculous amount of memories, most not seen by the public, Superman or no Superman. No doubt about it, they still had it bad for one another. Lois opened one eye and grinned, chuckling. "You quit that right now, hero. Never at the office. It's like having sex in church. We both agreed to that. Look where that one make-out session in the supply closet almost landed us all those years ago."

Clark shrugged. "Well, we're married now. If anyone _does_ catch us, it's not like they have someone to tattle to. Even if Richard walked in, he'd just cheer us on."

That broke Lois up again, knowing Richard absolutely would, just to aggravate her. But, to be fair, she would do just the same and nearly had several times since they had figured the four of their relationships out. "And borrow Lana's old pompoms to do it," Lois scoffed. "God, it hurts to realize it's been like … seventeen, eighteen years? How has it been that long?"

He nodded. "There are people working here – as after-school interns – who weren't even born yet when you and I got married. It's terrifying. Seems like just yesterday you were shaking up sodas for me to open."

"Now _that_ was more than twenty years ago. You can let it go any time. I was just trying to put the competition in its place from your first day here, Mr. Snappy-Punchy-Prose-Style." She tried not to smirk, but failed. She could remember being more than willing to murder Perry that morning; oh, how the tables had turned since then.

"I certainly found my place," he told her warmly, those blue eyes deep and rich and knowing. She could tell, just looking at him, that he was thinking of certain very specific places, or perhaps _positions_.

Only one thing could pull her away from her first love and, damn him, he knew that, but she knew that she had that power, too. Now just wasn't the time. Lois elbowed him lightly, glaring at him in mock-annoyance. "_Stop it_. No one else believes you have a wicked streak, Kal-El. I remember how you got me back for that little trick with the soda."

"Very few people believe that you have a tender streak, but we both know I know better," he observed. "Maybe I just learned devious underhanded tactics from you, after all these years."

She smirked at him. "Maybe you were always just better at hiding your deviousness. Meanwhile I just wish I could get this damn layout settled." Lois couldn't help turning back to the computer screen, her brow furrowing.

"I _was_ trying to distract you," he remonstrated. Lois gave a little shrug; she couldn't silence the nagging sense of wrongness about that layout with happy thoughts. Maybe it would've worked for her sister Lucy, but Lois had always needed to face down trouble. Trying to distract herself just made her irritable.

Clark spoke again, in a much less jocular tone. "There is something we need to talk about, and it won't spoil your glowering-at-the-front-page mood."

That sounded … disturbing. And personal. "What's that?" she asked, turning back to him with an arched brow.

He looked chagrined. "I talked to Kala when we went up to sun this morning. First she wanted my permission to bring Jay to the Fortress, and I agreed."

Lois sat there for a moment, not sure how to feel about that. On one hand, there was shock at the fact that her daughter had made such a decision, but then again, it really shouldn't have been. Even with everything considered, her feelings were complicated. "Seconded, but damn," Lois said. "She goes from none of her significant others knowing who she is, being the one most determined to follow all the rules perfectly, to giving her Bat guided tours of the _Fortress_? _ Wow_. That's pretty noteworthy, don't you think?"

"I do. We might have to start taking this seriously." Clark raised his eyebrows humorously; they certainly hadn't dismissed Kala's relationship with Jay. But none of her other relationships had ever approached this kind of depth. The closest person to her had always been Sebast, and now that was more complicated than ever. Her lovers, though, Lois had always looked at them a little skeptically, never thinking her daughter would fully settle down. Until _this_ news. If she'd taken Jay up to the Fortress, then she clearly believed this was a longer-term thing than anyone else before him. And Lois highly doubted if Jay even knew that.

Clark sighed, and continued, "I didn't ask her why she wanted to take him up, but I could tell she was out of sorts. I finally convinced her to tell me what was wrong. Jason didn't call her on their birthday."

For a moment, Lois only stared. That floored her. Angry and frustrated, she could understand, but for Jason to shut Kal out like that? With everything else she had going on? That bordered on cruelty, with Kala, coming from Jason. The twins had always been close growing up; almost amoeba, to the point of that being a nickname for them until the end of childhood. They could communicate a whole conversation with just looks as kids, made up words that were nonsense to everyone but each other. How Jason had been so lonesome the first summer she had done a limited-stop tour, how Kala had cried like a baby when Jase went off to Johns-Hopkins. It had been worse when Jason had moved out to the Kent farm. Kala had flown out nearly every other night, brought him home for the night when the homesickness was too bad.

And now, over this, not even a phone call. On their birthday. Part of her wanted to erupt into profanity, but who could she blame for Jason's stubbornness? The man in front of her was only half of it. Lois confined herself to a single groan of, "God _damn_ it," drawn out to three words.

"He's furious about Sebast finding out our identities," Clark murmured.

"No, he's still pissed about Kal sleeping with Jason Todd. The whole Sebast thing is just throwing gasoline on the fire." Lois flung herself backward in her chair, seeing herself in both of her children: Jason's certainty that he knew best, and Kala's equal determination not to let anyone rob her of her choices.

"Jason loves her, but he doesn't always understand her these days. As much as they have in common, they are very different in other ways. He wouldn't be this angry if he wasn't afraid for her," Clark pointed out. "That's what Jason fears most, you know, losing her."

All of them knew that; eight years didn't dim the nightmare Lex Luthor had plunged them all into with his revenge. Elliot had certainly helped them through the woods with it afterward, as veiled as everything they had had to tell him was, but he had confirmed that they all carried nightmares and scars, literal and figurative. That said, Lois had thought that they had all reached manageable levels with that. Jason couldn't help it, though. His fears came from that horrible afternoon when they were six; the situation in Nevada had only made them worse. Still… "And he's going to drive her away if he doesn't pull his head out of his ass," Lois complained, raking a hand through her silver hair in aggravation. "You can't tell Kala what to do, we all know that. Even if she meant to do what you're asking, and _especially_ if she knows she's wrong. She'll turn herself inside out before she'll give you the satisfaction of being _obedient_."

"She's very much our child," Clark sighed.

"My child," Lois replied ruefully, sighing.

"Mine, too. How many times did I have to restart the Jor-El program to get it to accept the fact that I'd miscegenated with a human?" He arched his brows, making light of the whole affair, which definitely hadn't been light at the time.

She couldn't help scoffing at his choice of words. "Only you would pick a ten-dollar word for 'knocked up'," Lois said with a snort. "But you're right, they both doubled down on our stubbornness. The question is, how do we stop them from butting heads?"

"I think he's still angry with me for intervening when he went after Jay," Clark said quietly.

Oh, yeah, about that. "He'd better get the hell over it. If she was sixteen still, I could forgive him, but busting into the Batcave _now_? Bruce is gonna hold onto that for years, and remind you whenever he needs to score points." Lois scowled, tapping her nails on her desk. "I'll talk to Jason. If you and I aren't pissed about our cover being blown to _one person,_ who has been a member of this family for _years_, he has to fall in line. And as for Kal's love life, he'd better get over it. We had to. She's gonna sleep with whoever she wants, and I'm just glad she didn't pick an active super-villain. If she's gonna do this, I'll live with a 'misunderstood' anti-hero. At least he's not currently blowing holes in people, even if he is one of Bruce's boys."

"Lois," Clark chided.

"What? She might want to be you in heels, Kal-El, but she's her mother's daughter through and through. She fell for the bad boy, when she had no intention of doing it, just like I did a few too many times before you showed up. I bet it started out adversarial, turned into respect, and then _whoops_, they tripped over one another." Lois gave an eloquent shrug. "Where else is Kala gonna find someone who can keep up with her, Kal-El? I mean, seriously? Civvies haven't worked out, and she's a little too sure of herself for the Titans crowd. Kal isn't the Kid Flash-type. Or Gar, even? C'mon, she already confessed to having had a thing for Rokk after she and Jase's little adventure a few years back. Between him and Powell, we should have guessed. Really, is it any surprise she picked a Robin? Not to mention, the edgiest of them, at that. Witty and snarky and dangerous and angry and a challenge all around, sound about right for our girl?"

"Well, _you_ eventually found yourself a nice guy," Clark pointed out.

"Accidentally. After he saved me mid-air from a falling helicopter. With a wicked streak that he keeps pretty well hidden," Lois countered with an assessing look. "I found the single best person on the planet, but you can keep up with me. You don't _have_ to out-compete me in anything, and you see me as an equal. You see all the stuff I keep shoved down somewhere – you saw _me_. Who knows, maybe that's what happened with these kids, too. Maybe Kala saw something more than the sarcasm and the guns. Maybe Jay saw past that Goth Barbie crap the kids give her. And maybe the fact that both of 'em have been through hell way too young was a factor, too, even if we all tried to keep them from it."

"Oh, I'm certain it was," Clark admitted. "I've seen them together. She got hit with a dose of fear toxin that brought out the Empress, and he managed to work with her anyway. No collateral damage. But she didn't want to come in and calm down, so she bolted – and took him with her. By the time I got there, he'd already talked her down."

Lois, meanwhile, ground her teeth. She knew her daughter, and knew how both of them reacted to terror. "Fear toxin. In Gotham. That's just what she needs. We're lucky she didn't level a city block. And that fucker Scarecrow is lucky I don't have him in my sights right now."

"_**Lois**_." Her husband looked at her seriously. "I know that look, and absolutely _not_. Don't go getting any ideas about marching over to Gotham and just shooting Bruce's entire rogues gallery. Not an option." He knew it was a _mostly_ impossible threat, he always knew, but the threat always made her feel better. Someone with no deep connection to the place needed to do a little pruning. Joker in the hospital was a good start, but there were many more out there.

"Sounds like a great weekend trip to me," Lois replied, fire in her eyes at the thought, then sighed and leaned back in the chair. "I know, I know. I know I can't and you won't, and I know why, too. But they're my babies, Kal-El. It doesn't matter that they're grown and Jason's making me a grandma and Kala's just putting more silver in my hair. I remember all the medications and carrying a pair of Epi-Pens everywhere and the macrobiotic shakes and listening to them wheeze. I remember them both being so big-eyed and weedy and so _tiny_. I _know_ they're grown now, and they're heroes, and the world needs them but more importantly _they_ need _this_, but you tell me some nutjob sprayed my daughter with _fear toxin_, I can't help going full mama bear. I'd kill the sonofabitch for her and never regret it."

He only shook his head slowly. Their differing views on lethal force had never been a source of strife; Lois had never told her husband to kill someone, and he'd never told her not to. He just tried to make sure she wasn't in a position where she had to follow through – and she tried not to remind him that she wouldn't lose any sleep if she was. "The kids will be all right," he said finally. "Kala's fine. She's getting all of that under control, and I think the fact that Jay isn't afraid of it has helped a great deal. He's back home, he's been following Bruce's code, and the two of them are keeping each other stable instead of spinning out of control."

"It's all working out the way we hoped," Lois said with a shrug. "Jase is just mad as hell because she didn't tell him. As for this with Sebast, I told Kala a while ago, we should've just _told_ him."

"We don't tell anyone," Clark replied. "You're right, though. It's awfully hard to remember all the reasons why we keep it a secret, when we have to lie to the people we love. Maybe we should've made an exception for Sebast. It's not worth second-guessing, now."

Lois sighed heavily, and shook her head, her mind on what to say to Jason. She'd probably have to bring up the Gertrude promise. It wasn't her place, but that would shake this out if nothing else did. Kidnapped, trapped on Luthor's yacht, he and Kala had promised never to let anyone separate them. By refusing to call her, by refusing to accept her choices, Jason was breaking that old vow. And Lois telling him so would break his heart.

She sighed deeply. "I _am_ worried about Kal and Jay, though. I mean, I trust her, don't get me wrong. But I can see too well why Jase is freaking out. Kala has my snark, but she has _your_ heart."

Clark nodded. "And Jay needs that, I think. He'd most likely deny it, considering his history honestly, but it's true. Bruce and Barbara have seen a change in him since the summer – not so much a change as the beginnings of a return to what we used to know. He was a good kid, Lois; as much as Bruce's expectations were too high, he was trying his best in a difficult situation. He just … got lost, somewhere, in trying to figure out who he was. And it probably helps to have someone believe in him, the way Kala seems to. Sometimes a person who's hurt and lonely and lost just needs someone to see them, and have a little faith."

Lois' lips quirked up. "You make Red Hood sound like a orphaned, injured baby honey badger, hero. That's part of why I love you. And I guess you mean like a certain farm-fresh Kansas kid believed that snarky bitch in City was the best damn reporter in town?" She couldn't resist the loving look she shot him, remembering the day all too well, for the years that had passed in-between. "You coulda picked anybody, Kent."

He looked at her seriously. "You know the only reason I don't complain when you call yourself that is because Ben taught me years ago that female dogs are usually in charge of the pack, right?"

And that was the man she knew and loved, the man who had come from another star to rock the orbit of her entire world to an absolute 't'. No one else knew her as well, as thoroughly as he did. She threw her hands up, laughing at him. "Kal-El! You are a veteran reporter, you've worked in the trenches, you live in Metropolis. You might not use it, but you've heard it for years. Give the 'virgin ears' routine a rest, Clark!"

At that, he chuckled. "Why would I have picked anyone else? I like a challenge, Lois. And you had your heart locked down pretty hard."

Sighing, she could only nod. By the time he happened along, he was right; she had become pretty jaded by the 'l' word and its many subtle and unsubtle manipulations. "But you found a way in. And so does Kal, though not for the same reasons, thank God. She doesn't get many challenges. And a Bat is definitely that, in lot of ways. You also have to look at how this started. She didn't mean to fall for Jay, I know that much. Pretty sure Jay didn't, either, if he has. She's just as much out of sorts as he probably is. I just hope she wasn't the only one that did. Just because they're doing this doesn't mean it's love on both parts. We both know it doesn't have to be love, especially in _this _life. I just hope it's even, whatever it is."

"Very few people _mean_ to fall in love," Clark pointed out. "Lana certainly never meant to fall for the man who was still engaged to _you_ at the time."

Lois gave a little scoffing laugh. "Yeah, none of us do things the sensible way. I just … maybe I should've let the kids train earlier. Let Kala get her bad-boy crush out of the way when she was like fifteen and none of it was this serious. I was trying to keep her safe, but I might've just held her back. I probably…"

"No," Clark said, reaching out to stop her words with a finger over her lips. "Lois, you did the best you knew how for them – and I did, too. I agreed with you about keeping them out of capes as long as we could. I wanted our kids to have as normal a life as possible, and as _safe_ a life as possible. We can't keep them safe from _everything_ unless we lock them up in little glass boxes, and they'd hate us for that."

She leaned back to protest, "I know, but…"

"No buts," Clark told her sternly. "Lois, do you realize that _everyone_ in the Titans is in awe of you? You went from never wanting kids, to thinking you couldn't have them with me, to the mother everyone admires. And you may not wear a cape, but your presence is very well known in the community. These kids know who you are and what you've done, back at the beginning when we were all starting out and now. A lot of those kids have trouble at home, and they _envy_ Jason and Kala. Because _their_ mom loves them and will protect them no matter what. Just like you have from the start."

Lois smiled sadly. She'd always wanted the best for the twins, and had never quite realized how their situation looked to all the rest. Despite never wanting children in her youth, her only reaction now was to want to gather all those screwed-up kids under her wing, too. Maybe … maybe they should have adopted like the others when the kids were young, but the twins were handful enough. But if they had, how many kids like Jay would have had a more realistic shot, without comparisons? Sometimes they had talked about how much Dick had gotten on with Clark, how sunny the boy had been…

As if he knew where her mind was, as he often did these days, Clark smiled. "Come on, don't you remember when Dick was joking about getting us to adopt him? He was like seventeen and a half at the time, but I don't think he was joking."

"Knowing our adorable Mr. Grayson, he wasn't. Didn't help that Daddy was not pleased with his choice of codename. Given a second chance, I would've done it. He's practically one of ours, thanks to that," Lois laughed, shaking her head; Dick had even joked that he had Clark's coloring, he could pass as their kid with a tan. As she did so, her glance caught the front page still displayed on her monitor. Suddenly, the error was glaringly obvious, as was its solution. Switch _that_ column to _this_ side, push the photo up and trim the headline… Lois swiveled her chair around and made the adjustments quickly, biting her lip. "_Yes!_ Now _that_ looks like a newspaper!"

Clark glanced over her shoulder and nodded. "It's perfect."

"Glad you approve, flyboy," Lois teased, glancing up at him with a chuckle, and sent the layout off to the print department. "Now let's go home. I need a glass of wine if I'm gonna kick some sense into my son tomorrow."

"I'll be happy to get you there as fast as I can," he said, with a twinkle in his royal blue eyes.

Lois grinned back, stealing a kiss. "That's what I like to hear."


	9. Wandered Very Far, Very Far

**Authors' Note:** We are on our annual vacation for the next week, which includes traveling to the mountains! We'll still be working, but probably on more of the future scenes and the overall outline. So next Sunday, November 3rd, we won't have a chapter for you. We'll be back on November 10th.

This is a whopper of a chapter, though, that foreshadows stuff in _Blood Will Tell_ as well as calling back to _Heirs to the House of El_. Hopefully it'll be enough to tide you over for an extra week.

Thank you to everyone who reviews and favorites! It's always a delight to know our work is appreciated.

* * *

Jason expected a simple, quiet morning … but the moment he stepped onto the back porch with his coffee, he knew he wasn't getting one. The mules and the goat weren't standing at the gate staring at him, which meant they'd gotten out again, which meant he had to go find them before they wandered into the road. He _needed_ a little peace and quiet, having been woken up too early by bad news yesterday, and last night's rest just wasn't enough to make up for it when he kept having nightmares. The same old nightmares, too, the ones where he was just a little too late to save someone. Where his hands slipped and Mom or Kala or Elise fell to their deaths.

On the day of, Elise had baked him a cake, and Dustin had dropped by to razz him about getting older, but the birthday party would be this Sunday. Maybe _that_ would tire him out enough that he'd sleep properly. In the meantime, life didn't stop just because he was having a hard time. Sighing, he set out to find his wandering livestock.

Jason had inherited the two mules, Patsy and Betty, from his grandfather Ben. They'd been riding animals in their younger years, but were mostly retired to what the locals called 'pasture ornaments' now. Jason would've been fine with that – he didn't believe in abandoning animals just because they got older – but every once in a while one of them would take it into her head to go exploring. And so far, they'd proven to be a little too smart about opening gates and stall doors.

Their pasture-mate goat Clyde was loose too, a neutered male called a wether that had been bottle-raised and was incredibly tame. The breeder couldn't bear to sell him to slaughter, so Clyde had ended up at the Kent farm when it was still Ben's place, and Elise had rolled her eyes when they moved out here. Clyde was a charmer, but he was just as bad about opening gates as the two mule mares.

Jason found Clyde first. On the roof of one of the sheds, industriously chewing on the branches of an overhanging tree. "How in the…? Never mind," he groaned, and checked with hearing and vision to make sure no one was looking this way before he jumped up. At least super-strength made retrieving crazy animals from weird situations easier. Jason locked Clyde in a stall; if he found himself in the pasture without his mule friends, he'd start bleating loudly and forlornly.

Now for the mules, and Jason didn't see or hear them at first. He had to track their hoof prints, carrying a pair of halters and leads, and with a sinking heart he realized they'd headed for the road. At least this was Smallville, and what traffic there was had grown accustomed to livestock as a potential road hazard.

He found the wayward pair two dusty miles away, closer to town, casually eating all the hostas out of a flowerbed as the apparent resident of the home stood there staring at them and halfheartedly saying, "Shoo!" She was about ten years older than Jason, and looked completely flummoxed; this area was relatively new development, attracting the kinds of city people who wanted small-town charm but knew nothing of small-town life.

Jason growled through gritted teeth, "_Git!_" and both mules' heads came up. Betty pinned her ears back, and he growled again. "Don't you dare run, park your truant butts right there, girls. _Whoa_, Patsy, whoa, Betty."

"Thank you," the lady said, and Jason nodded to her as he walked up to his mules. Betty let him halter her up, while Patsy danced back snorting. He called her name soothingly, and got her halter on too, only then turning to the woman whose garden had been their morning salad.

"Sorry, ma'am," he told her with his best apologetic smile. "Mules are too smart for their own good sometimes. If you go to the hardware store in town and tell them Jason Kent sent you, they'll put your replacement plants on my account."

She tilted her head at his accent. "You're not from here, are you? Oh, and it's no trouble. The deer eat my flowers, too. No one told me about that, but they're so pretty, I don't mind."

Jason remembered when he'd been enchanted by deer traipsing through his yard. That had been _before_ they'd jumped the eight-foot fence around the garden and eaten every single tomato he and Elise had painstakingly planted, watered, and fertilized, though. Now, he didn't begrudge Dustin the chance to hunt on his land. He didn't tell the newcomer she'd be sick of deer in a year or two, if she stayed, only replying, "No ma'am, I'm from Metropolis. You're not from here either."

"Metropolis?" she said, eyebrows shooting up. Patsy edged toward her flowerbed, and Jason shook the lead rope slightly. "Oh man, what possessed you to move _here_? I came from Kansas City because the schools are top-notch and the crime's nonexistent, but _Metropolis_? That's like, the polar opposite of this town."

"My dad's from Smallville," Jason explained. "I moved here for the same reason, pretty much. It's a good place to raise kids, and my wife and I are expecting twins." Something about the way this woman looked at him made Jason want to get the word 'wife' into that conversation quickly.

She smiled, a little chagrined, and held out her hand. "Samantha Cosgrove. Nice to meet you. Is this a normal thing in Smallville? Stray horses?"

"Mules," Jason couldn't help correcting as he shook with her. "Usually it's goats or cows. If you have someone's livestock in your yard, call the sheriff and describe them, especially the brand. The sheriff will usually know who to call to come and fetch them. Don't go out if there are cattle – they can be aggressive, especially if it's cows with their calves."

"_Cows_ are aggressive?" she asked, her eyebrows going up.

Jason smiled, a little amused to realize that he – who had been born in Paris and lived in Metropolis and trained in Gotham – was thinking, _city people,_ with the same despair as the old-timers. "Cows kill more people per year than sharks. They know exactly how big and strong they are. Most of the time they're pretty shy, but any mother animal will defend her offspring. And when the mom is as big as a car, and probably has horns too, she can do some serious damage."

"Wow. The more you know." Samantha shook her head. "Thanks, Mr. Kent. I'll keep that in mind. Look, um … other than killer cows, this _is_ a good place, right?"

"The best," he said, without hesitation or irony.

She nodded slowly. "It's just … my daughter Regina, she's a pretty exceptional kid. I can work remotely, and I picked this place out of a realtor's brochure. I want the best for her. I'm a little worried she won't quite fit in, though." A laugh, and Samantha gave a self-deprecating smile. "I have no idea why I'm saying this to a total stranger."

"I just have one of those faces," Jason replied with a shrug. "They tell me I look like someone you can trust. I missed my calling, then – should've been a con man, instead of a cosmologist."

"Cosmologist?" _That_ put her eyebrows up, and Jason grinned.

"I'm at Johns Hopkins – about to take a gap year so my wife can get her degree first. This is a good place for it. We're only two hours east of one of the largest radio telescope arrays in the country," he pointed out. "Besides, Smallville … it might _seem_ like an ordinary town, but there's a pretty large tolerance for exceptional here. Even weird. Your daughter will be fine, I'm sure. Heck, we have most of the big-city trends. Thank high-speed internet for a lot of it, and…"

He'd been about to say, _Thank my sister for bringing Goth fashion here ten years ago_, but that burned in his chest. Thank his sister, indeed. If Jason had to move in the middle of the night because Sebast decided to go to the press, he'd thank her all the way to the Arctic and back.

Samantha looked at him worriedly, and he gave another disarming shrug. "I guess my family brought some city with us, too. The old guys who hang out in front of the general store are _still_ talking about how my mom drives after something that happened when we were six."

She grinned at that. "I find it hard to believe there's anything weird about you, Mr. Kent. You're right, you _do_ have one of those honest faces."

"You'd be surprised," he laughed, and Patsy chose that moment to nudge him, hard. Caught off guard, Jason nearly stumbled, and looked into the mule's deep brown eyes sternly. Something about her gaze suggested that she was laughing at him. "Hey! I guess that's my cue to get these two home. If she's not gonna have your flowerbeds for breakfast, the princess here wants her sweet feed."

"Take care," Samantha told him, and Jason turned to lead the two mules away.

Halfway up her drive, he called over his shoulder, "I'm serious about the hardware store! And they'll tell you which flowers the deer won't eat, too."

"I might take you up on that!" she called back, waving, and Jason turned away again.

"You girls make a great first impression," he scolded them as they walked. "The lady moves into a small town, probably never seen a cow in person, and she wakes up one morning to a couple of thieving old mules eating her flowers. I mean, it's just _rude_. I know you're the Dastardly Duo of Smallville, but come on." Jason eyed them both, and while he could pretend that Betty looked contrite, Patsy decidedly didn't. Then again, the bay mare had never looked contrite in all the years Jason had known her.

One year when he and Kala had gone to the county fair, they'd come home with deliciously sticky caramel apples. The farm animals were always an attraction, and it had never occurred to the twins not to wander over and see the mules just because they were still eating their fair treats. Patsy had reached over the fence and plucked Jason's apple right out of his hand, eating it stick and all while he stared in shock. He'd been all of maybe twelve, at the time. Patsy had only looked at him mildly, as if it were his fault for tempting her.

And Kala had gotten Grandma to cut hers in half, so she could share with him.

A fist closed around Jason's heart. _Kala_. His snarky goofball sister. She'd gone off and done the dumbest possible thing, like it was some kind of competition and she had to outdo Mom's storied exploits and all their friends' wildest tales. Yeah, Jason hooked up with Wonder Girl, Tim had held Steph's hands through her labor, some of the other Titans had done weirder stuff … but Kala had to go and sleep with _Red Hood_.

The worst thing, the absolute _worst_ thing about all of it, was the look in her eyes when she'd blown into town and kicked his butt. They'd quarreled all their lives, Kala's temper had always run hotter than his, but Jason had never seen her so hurt and furious with _him_.

Everyone – even Dr. Marrin – had predicted that the twins would grow apart as they grew up. And to a certain extent, they had. Jason, who'd loved the piano, had let his passion for music become a hobby, something he did to relax. Meanwhile Kala had turned her voice into her calling. They sometimes went weeks without seeing each other, while she was on the road and he was buckled down with his textbooks.

But they'd never gone more than a few days without calling or texting or just liking each other's memes on Facebook. She posted jokes about farmers on his wall, and when he'd posted a new profile picture while wearing plaid, she'd put up The Lumberjack Song from Monty Python every few hours for a couple of days, always disguising the link so he'd click on it. Meanwhile Jason followed four or five different meme groups just so he could post a new terrible pun on her wall each day.

The morning was spoiled, Jason decided, and he picked up the pace to a comfortable jog. Patsy pinned her ears and whinnied a complaint, but he tugged the lead rope. "Better work off that breakfast, old girl. I've seen you gallop around the pasture, don't act like you can't trot."

He got them home and put away and found the loose board they'd worked free, nailing it back into place. He let Clyde into the pasture too, because the goat was already blatting his displeasure with a sound eerily like a very hoarse person yelling in complaining tones. By the time he made it back to the porch and his now cold and bitter coffee, Elise was already up and out for the day.

She'd left him a note, stuck to the coffee mug. _Call your mom._

"Oh, _great_," Jason sighed.

…

When the phone rang, Lois got up to close her office door. The rest of the _Planet_ staff knew not to bother her when it was closed; the fact that it was soundproof to anything short of super-hearing helped, too. Taking a deep breath, she readied herself for the argument to come. With Kala, she had no such problems with their personalities being so much alike. They'd fight, they'd yell, and whoever was wrong would grudgingly back down. Eventually. With her mostly-sweet, often-bullheaded boy, she always found it harder. Only once she had herself centered did she pick up the phone. "Hello, Jason."

"Hi, Mom," he said, already sounding weary.

Oh, yeah, he knew what was coming. And knew all too well he deserved it. "Elise told me you were out and about," she said. "Did you get everything sorted?"

It was her son's turn to sigh. "Yeah, I caught the mules and brought them back. I owe some lady closer to town a new flowerbed, though. We're seeing more city people in Smallville these days."

"Oh, I see." That arched an eyebrow, Lois just chuckling. "City people, huh? And just what do you think _you_ are, Jason Kent? The American Hospital in Paris isn't exactly rural."

He laughed at that. "City with sense, maybe? She thought she could chase off the mules by saying 'Shoo' at them. Didn't know a mule from a horse, either. Still likes deer even though they eat her flowers, too. Wait 'til it snows, and she finds out the town plow doesn't get out her way until after noon."

"Well, she'll either adjust, or move away," Lois said philosophically. They both knew she could _never_ live in Smallville full time, but she knew enough about small-town life to keep from embarrassing her husband or her son.

"She said she moved here for the schools. Hopefully that'll keep her. Lana and Uncle Bruce have donated enough money to the school system to make Smallville pretty attractive to people who are tired of big-city problems." Jason sighed again, and said, "You didn't call to talk about my adventures in mule-catching, Mom. What's up?"

Lois let the silence draw on for a moment, letting him stew over it. It wasn't really a question, if they were both honest. "I think we both know what's up," she replied, her disapproval just starting to color her tone. "Jason, why didn't you didn't call your sister on your birthday?"

That got the most extravagant sigh yet, one that wouldn't be physically possible without super-breath. "_Mom_. I knew she was going to call you and say something. She's sleeping with _Jason Todd_, and apparently he's driven all of her common sense right out, because now _Sebast_ knows all about us. Like seriously, she couldn't even blow the secret to someone she's dating. She finally sleeps with someone who already knows, and screws it up with someone who _doesn't_, and who has every reason to hate her right now! We're just lucky he decided to call _Elise_ instead of going to the press!"

It was her turn to sigh, knowing that he would've phrased that more bluntly if speaking to anyone but her. As if she hadn't heard this same argument so many time before, from the time they turned eleven. "Jason … it's not Jay's fault."

"He coulda left her alone," he replied stubbornly.

His mother couldn't resist rolling her eyes; yep, here they were going again. "It doesn't sound like a one-sided thing, and I'm going to remind you to give your sister a little more credit. I didn't raise a damsel in distress and you know that better than anyone," Lois retorted. "It's not like he chased her down and carried her off over his shoulder like a caveman, Jason."

"Yeah, no, you're right; she'd strangle him for that," he said offhandedly. A little chill ran down Lois' spine, at that – they all knew Kala could, and might, _actually_ kill a man for trying to assault her. Lois couldn't bring herself to feel pity for any man that tried.

Jason continued, "She's just being an idiot because he's a pretty bad-boy type. I mean, don't all Goth girls have a biker phase?"

Good Lord, this child. As if he hadn't gone through an unexpected demigoddess phase that had set the hero-set a-flutter a few years back. "_Jason_. There are _plenty_ of bad boys in the community, and with most of them she could've kept it quieter for longer. She would've gotten less shit for it, too. If she was just going through a phase, why didn't she do it before now?"

He scoffed. "Because she wasn't _in_ the community, Mom. She just hung out on the fringes. And I'm kinda glad, because we heard enough crap aimed at Cassie about 'collecting the set'. No, this is just Kala being as outrageous as possible, as usual. She's done it ever since she was a kid. We ought to just glad she made it as a rock singer, otherwise her fallback plan was becoming a _pirate_. She does it for the attention, we all know she does."

Lois rubbed her temples, wishing she could smack her son upside the head. She wouldn't remind him that his own first career choice was giant radioactive lizard. "Honey, I _really_ don't think this is for the attention. This has been going on since August, from what I gather. And they kept it quiet as long as possible, even from the Bats. If she wanted the attention, you know she would've told us all when she got back. _Tim_ would've been talking about it, too; and don't think he would've resisted telling you. I know you two boys. Not to mention, Kala might try to shock you and me, but she wouldn't do that to your dad."

"Of course not. And Dad has to be so noble, he's trying to justify it to himself," Jason said bitterly.

Letting out her breath in a huff, Lois found herself having to defend her daughter's boyfriend. "Look, Jase, I'm going to have to stop you there. If you can stop fuming for five seconds, Mom needs to be devil's advocate here, accurate as it might be at times. First of all, you need to take a minute and take a deep breath." She heard him grumble with annoyance, but Jason went silent. "Now, you need to remember something: you never met him before you got in his face at the Cave. Everything you know is from rumors, and maybe from Tim. You need more to base on someone than just assumptions, especially being the child of two star reporters."

"Former," Jason couldn't resist putting in, sounding so aggravated that Lois let the snark slide instead of laying in to him about that, which was what he wanted. He never could stand being in the hot seat with her.

"Watch yourself, smart-aleck. Difference is, I _remember_ Jay as a kid. You were about ten and obsessed with getting the original imports of the Kaiju films, so you don't."

Again, Jason cut her off. "You only know what that is because of me, you know."

"Yeah, I know; you wouldn't shut up about them until you were about sixteen and had your entire online life revolving around it and even then, it was a struggle to get you to talk about anything else," Lois cracked back before adding, "Now stop interrupting because we're gonna talk about this, like it or not. Jay was an all right kid – a little smartass, but so were you two. Maybe some anger issues, but everyone forgets that Dick had that, too. No matter what else, Jason Todd was a good kid trying his best, from what I remember. Most of what happened to him back then was never his fault. Poor kid was screwed over from the start, and even being 'rescued' from a shitty life by Bruce still sucked, because he wasn't Dick. I remember thinking that, the one time I got to meet him." Lois thought back to that night with a sad smile; he'd been a tough, wise-cracking kid, full of fire and a need to prove himself, to change things however he could. Clark had been keeping her updated on this new baby bird Bruce had brought home. As many growing pains as they had had, she would never have expected the ending that Bruce's thoughtless actions would prompt.

"Jay had a time of it; being second-in-line was harder than he expected, I think. Dick hadn't been gone that long and he seemed really proud of being Robin, but those weren't _his_ pixie boots; Bruce never gave him his own. Your father could even see it. He couldn't be Dick, was never going to _be _Dick, no matter how hard he tried, and trying to be what Bruce thought he wanted and needed was only going to hurt him in the end. It was Bruce's way or the highway. Was Jay perfect? No. But even Dick wasn't perfect in the beginning, when they first started working together. Jay was trying to find his way, trying to balance what he knew on the streets with what Bruce was trying to teach him. We all saw it. But he never got the chance to sort it all out, though, because of what happened to him."

"Yeah, and he came back a psycho killer who wanted Bruce's head on one side of his mantel, Joker's on the other," Jason growled.

And, of course, Jason was sticking to his guns. She had to hit him where he lived, like it or not. Her son was usually warm and welcoming, accepting of those who had been through half of what Jason Todd had. Time to knock him off his high-horse. "Who are we to judge, Jason? In light of what happened, can we really blame him?" Lois shot back, metaphorically loaded for bear. "Tell me you've heard even the Cliff's Notes version of what happened to the boy – and he _was_ a boy, he was younger than you were when Luthor took Kala. Hell, I'd cheerfully blow Joker's head off, given half a chance, and I've never even met the miserable sonofabitch." She'd heard through Kal-El that Joker was currently in the hospital, and Lois was definitely hoping his injuries were severe enough that he might only leave via the morgue.

"You're not Uncle Bruce," Jason replied stubbornly. "I don't know if Bruce really believes that everyone deserves a chance at redemption – because he has to believe that, for himself. Or if he just thinks that if he killed once, he'd never quit. I don't care. I signed up under Dad's version of the no-kill rule. I can't save all of the people who deserve saving, so I don't have the authority to decide who deserves to die. _This_ asshole runs around with guns, trying to kill _Tim_ of all people."

And there it was, most of Jason's problem. Like all of his parents, he was fantastically loyal to his friends. "Does Tim even still blame him for that?" Lois asked, gently. Never mind that with all she'd heard, if Jay had _really_ wanted to kill Tim, he would've succeeded. That little fact wouldn't help her case. "Look, Jason, if _you_ came that close to dying, and came back years later, how would _you_ feel to find out your dad had put some other kid in the Superboy uniform? If all you wanted was to get back home, and you couldn't because you were so broken you didn't even know your name. If you thought your dad had never looked for you, if it seemed like he'd replaced you in no time at all, and if the guy who did it was still alive and running around free, still hurting people, still killing people. Not to mention, you'd be half crazy from how you came back. What would _you_ do?"

"Not blame the guy who wore my hand-me-downs," Jason muttered.

"You've had times where you and Kala were jealous of each other, and you grew up together," Lois pointed out.

"That's different. She's my sister. If she, I dunno, picked up the pieces, I wouldn't hurt _her_ for it." Jason was as stubborn as Lois herself, she knew, and she wouldn't be able to move him on this.

"Well, you're not him," Lois said. "He did it, and he regrets it, and _Tim_ forgave him. You can't judge him forever on the worst thing he ever did."

"I can't?" Jason challenged.

She loved him with all her heart, but a swift kick in her child's ass would not be out of place at the moment. Lois could almost hear her mother Ella laughing somewhere. Yep, she had more than earned a little of this back from her younger years, but _ugh_, _these children_. Lois had been keeping her voice down, knowing this conversation wasn't audible outside the office anyway, but _this_ part was spoken in a hushed whisper. "Okay, fine. You want to be like that? Quick reminder, Jason: your father walked out on me and the entire planet. He stole my memories and left me pregnant. I damn near had an abortion when I found out, because fucking _Luthor_ was willing to take the credit for that, but in the end I couldn't believe that he'd still be _alive_ if he'd done that and so I tried getting my memories back, instead. Lucky me, I managed not to give up what turned out to be the greatest gift your father ever gave me. Congratulations, Jason, you know the worst things your parents ever did or thought about doing. Wanna judge us?"

A long pause followed. "Mom … I can't blame you. I mean, I'm glad you didn't, because I'm _here_ and all, but given those circumstances, I couldn't blame you. And Dad didn't know you were pregnant. He regrets it, too, I can still see it in his eyes whenever we talk about when we were really little. Before he came back."

"Then if you can forgive us, find a little scrap of compassion somewhere and forgive Jay," Lois advised. "Because, baby boy, it doesn't look like he's going anywhere. Yeah, your sister's always had a hard time with relationships, but she seems _happy_. And from what your dad said, seeing them together, Jay seems good with her. A lot more like he used to be."

"He should be. He's dating a lot better woman than he deserves," Jason grumbled.

"So's your dad," Lois teased, and then turned solemn. "Jason. I love you. But as your mother, I'm telling you to yank the reindeer out from up your butt. _Let it go_. Kala's not gonna break up with her boyfriend just because you threw a hissy fit. You might as well get over it now, because you're not helping anything and it's just going to bite you in the ass in the end."

"Mom…" he began.

She drew in a deep breath, remembering him at ten, outraged that she and Richard were breaking up. Somehow the twins had gotten it in their heads that Mommy and Daddy Richard splitting up meant that they'd be split up, too, and Jason had intimidated Kal-El _and_ Richard into letting him and Kala go to Nana's. "Jason Garen. _Enough_. Kala won't give up just because you stamp your foot like you did when you were six, and wanted all four of us to move into the Riverside house and live happily ever after."

He scoffed at her. "I was right then, too. You guys all go on vacations together now. I know plenty of kids of divorced and remarried parents, thanks to school and stuff, and Kal and I have the least family drama of any of them."

Lois sighed yet again. Time to drop a little more truth on him. "Yeah, no, that would _not_ have worked. I wouldn't have been able to stand Lana and Richard canoodling all over the place. Richard wouldn't have been able to handle me and Clark. And with your dad's hearing, he would've died from sheer awkwardness."

"But – " Jason began.

She cut him off. "Not to mention the nightmare when Lana got pregnant. Seriously, you guys had _no_ idea how bad it was. If she and I had been under the same roof, it would've gotten physical eventually. Everyone loves Kristin, but there's a _reason_ Lana never tried for another baby."

"It wasn't _that_ bad," Jason protested.

"Oh, it was," Lois said. "I'm not giving you specifics, because I don't want you side-eyeing Lana; she was out of her head on pregnancy hormones, and the worst part was, she _knew_ she was acting crazy. It didn't stop her from almost slapping my face one time."

"Holy shit," Jason whispered.

"Yeah. I almost ran afoul of the dreaded Pimp Arm of Lana Lang," Lois said dryly, remembering the incoherent rage in Lana's eyes. That had been the only time she'd ever stepped back from the redhead, sure that any second Lana would take a swing at her – and it would've ended badly, no matter what. This long past, Lois couldn't even remember what she'd done to set off the cheerleader, only that Richard had winced with his whole body, and Lana had gone from laughing to snarling in seconds.

She'd caught herself seconds later, and burst into tears, certain that she was destroying her marriage and her friendships. Lois wasn't exactly a stranger to anxiety, but she'd been torn between righteous anger – no one had ever quite convinced Lois Lane to turn the other cheek – and despair at not being able to reassure Lana. It had been an ugly, unpleasant time for all of them, and thank God the worst of it had only been the last four months or so.

The end result was Kristin, though, and the Dormouse made up for all of it. "Look, Jase, Lana spent her whole pregnancy afraid that she was gonna be fat and unattractive forever, and she got the idea that Richard would leave her for me. It didn't help that your dad and I were having trouble, too, and there was all that history with Richard. We knew how each other worked; it could've been an easy mistake to make. And contrary to office gossip, you don't solve a love triangle times two with a foursome."

"Eww," Jason complained. "C'mon, Mom, I hear enough about me and Cassie and Tim. All right, fine, I was wrong when I was a kid."

"And you might be wrong now, too," Lois told him, pressing the point. "It doesn't matter if you're right or wrong. You are _going_ to drop it, and let your sister date whoever she wants. Otherwise I'm gonna buy one of those Get-Along shirts and stuff you both into it until you settle down."

"Do _you_ call that dating?" he muttered venomously.

Lois closed her eyes. Okay, this was going to hurt, but it was necessary. Sometimes you had to strike a low blow on a Kent man to wake him up. "That's fine talk coming from someone who started dating Cassie Sandsmark after waking up hungover in her bed."

"Hey!" Jason snapped. "That was different!"

"Maybe so. But even if you're right about that, you're gonna let your sister sleep with whoever she wants, too. That's her choice." Lois gritted her teeth, expecting him to snap at her again, but he'd fallen silent and she continued. "You've never seen them together. You've never talked to him, or talked to her about it. You're just hearing Titans gossip, and you're not listening to anyone who has any insight. You just wanna be angry, because he hurt your friend a few years ago. Which Tim is clearly dealing with better than you, son of mine."

Yep, that was the last thing Jason had wanted to hear. She could hear her own bristly tone when he spoke again, could hear him pulling back in reaction. "Fine," Jason said, as wounded and sulky as he'd been at six.

Lois struggled with the urge to have Clark fly her out there just so she could cross her arms and glare at him in person. She really should've done this face to face, but she thought he'd take more offense to her flying out to defend Kala than doing it over a phone line.

Then, there was also the fact that he was her precious boy, usually as sunny as his own father. She struggled with the urge to pick him up and hug him and kiss the frown-line between his brows, as impossible as that was now, until he trusted her that things would be all right. He'd always been the easier child, when they were tiny, more biddable than the grumpy little fire-siren that was Kala at that age. Now, though, not only could she not pick him up anymore, Lois found it harder than ever to move him when he was dug in.

She had to be the parent, though, and she had more than one child. Lois couldn't soothe her son's ego when he was breaking Kala's heart. "Good. Now call your damn sister and wish her a happy birthday. Even if that's all you say."

He grumbled under his breath, but finally let out a titanic sigh. "_Fine_. You know I wouldn't be mad at her if I wasn't worried."

Lois closed her eyes, rubbing at her temple with the hand not holding her phone. "I know. But Jason, you can't keep the Gertrude promise if you won't _talk_ to her."

_That_ rocked him back on his heels, a wave of frost Lois could almost feel icing his next words. "Low blow, Mom."

"It's true, or I wouldn't say it," she replied. "And don't forget, baby boy, I remember when you were seven and had the flu and Kala couldn't sleep in bed with you, because we were too afraid of her getting it. I remember how she bawled and whined, and nothing we said or did could console her. I had to hold her all night to keep her from trying to take the door apart to get to you, while your dad stayed in the room with you."

He went silent at that, and Lois continued softly, "I remember when Kala broke her arm the same year and you wouldn't let go of her once we came back from the hospital. You cried more than she did – that might've been the morphine, though."

"Yeah, I knew _something_ was wrong but you guys had to take her in to get the cast," Jason said quietly. "I was glad to see her again when you picked me up from school, but seeing her all loopy from the pain meds and with that big cast on her arm … it was the first time I realized she could actually get hurt. For real. And I wouldn't be able to stop it."

Lois smiled sadly. Every child learned eventually that the world wasn't made out of cotton candy, and hers had seen it too soon. Little wonder that they both reacted by becoming protective of each other. "Both of you have grown up, and you might not throw tantrums whenever you're apart more than three hours, but you still love each other just as much. I know that, Jason. So put down your anger, which is about half because of Tim and half because Kala managed to keep a secret for once, and love your twin."

"I love you, Mom," he said with a sigh and Lois could almost hear the weight fall from his shoulders. Being angry and blustery wasn't a state Jason was comfortable with and she knew it; he just had a hard time letting go of things that had frustrated or scared him. Sometimes you just had to force it out of him while he fought the whole time. He was always the better for it. "And I love her, too. Even if she _is_ the biggest boogerhead on Earth or Krypton."

Laughing, Lois remembered all the _years_ of teasing back and forth, Jason complaining about Kala's big head and her raining on his parade by telling him he couldn't grow up to be Godzilla. "I love you too. I'm going to go run my newspaper now."

"Just try and keep Kala out of the gossip pages," he said archly and hung up.

Lois scoffed. "Good son, my ass," she chuckled. "He's mine through and through."

…

Kala was asleep on the tour bus, her dreaming mind full of images of Jay's face, his icy blue eyes wide with wonder. She'd shown him around the Fortress, but they'd been up there almost too long, and she'd had to hustle back to the tour after dropping him off. No time for anything else, but he'd kissed her hard and promised her the birthday gift would make up for it. It had to – she was looking forward to dinner with her family, and their gifts, but seeing Jay always took her mind off the worst things. Her 'weekend' was actually Sunday and Monday, since the tour had back-to-back shows on Friday and Saturday, but the family – and Jay – had adapted to her unusual concept of weekend.

Her phone vibrated, waking her, and she fumbled it to her ear, saying rustily, "Hello?"

A pause, and then a slightly embarrassed male voice started to sing 'Happy Birthday', screwing up the scan because he had to insert 'Belated' into each line.

Kala sat up, covering her mouth, and tried to blink back the tears. She let Jason sing the whole song, and at the end he said, "Yeah, so … I love you, Kal."

"I love you, too, Jase," Kala said, her voice thick with emotion. "I love you _so damn much_." She listened carefully to the rest of the bus, but everyone else was in the back, either asleep or close to it. Kala had insisted on some soundproofing for the loft, and she was the only one here. No one could overhear this conversation.

"Mom kicked my butt," he said, apologetic. "So did Elise, but Mom knows just how to smack you hard enough to make you see the light. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," Kala said, sniffling a little. "I shouldn't have flown out and whaled on you."

"Well, I shouldn't have skipped over to Gotham and started crap with Uncle Bruce," Jason admitted, with a short, bitter laugh. "Mom's right, though, I don't know anything about Jay Todd. I can't judge. I just … Kala, I'm _scared _for you."

"There's nothing to be scared _of_," she insisted. "And Jay's … a lot like me, really, but with the added bonus of testosterone poisoning. Which, thank God I missed out on _that_ bullshit."

"Yeah no, I'm real glad to have a wild rock star sister and not a brother," Jason laughed. "It's just … Kal, we're not seeing you as much lately. I know the tour is crazy, and I thought it was just that, but I found out you had more on your plate than I thought. And I don't like it when I don't know what my sister's up to."

"About five foot nine and a half," she replied automatically, an old joke that made them both groan to hear it.

"You know what I mean," Jason said, gently.

"Yeah, I do. And you know why I kept it on the down-low. This isn't like Dustin or Marlene or even Nick." Kala sighed, flopping back down onto the narrow bed.

"That scares me, too," he said.

They were both quiet for a moment, and Kala finally replied, "You got _married_, Lizardboy. And you've got twins on the way. That's a whole lot more time taken away from being the Terrible Twosome than anything I have on deck."

"You're more than welcome here. Elise likes you, obviously. And I'm hoping to cadge some free babysitting at some point." He was trying to joke, but not doing so well at it.

Kala laughed, shaking her head. "You great big dope. Do you really think some fucking _boy_ is gonna keep me away from you? There's nowhere on this planet you can go that I can't hear you, Dopey."

"Yeah, I think about that sometimes," Jason said. "It made my honeymoon real awkward."

"Rest assured, I _wasn't_ listening in. Yuck." Kala laughed softly. "I tuned out the whole world just for you."

"Much appreciated. I just … damn. I have to deal with him somehow. Mom was threatening to stuff you and me into a Get-Along shirt, she better not think she can do that to me and him." He sounded so grumpy, her sweet silly stone-headed brother, and Kala laughed.

"One, a Get-Along shirt for us would have to be like carbon-fiber steel-reinforced or something. And she'd still have to get us _into_ the thing somehow," Kala pointed out.

"She'd just make Dad help," Jason chuckled.

"She would. But no one's gonna try that with you and Jay. He'd never come near Metropolis again. Jay doesn't take risks like that." Kala did wonder, fleetingly, how the hell she was going to handle the eventual meeting of her brother and her lover.

"I wouldn't _hurt_ him," Jase said, sounding wounded and surprised. "Heck, I'd be more worried about him showing up with kryptonite."

Kala chuckled. "Yeah, he would. But Jay knows what we can do – not what we _will_ do, what we _could_. Face it, we have a lot of power. And he's _been _a bad guy. He knows what it feels like to look over his shoulder and wonder when we're gonna drop onto his head. Hell, Jay spent the whole first month we were together worrying that _Dad_ would laser off important parts. You? He knows you could squash him like a grape. You _wouldn't_, I know that, but he doesn't. Jay … doesn't have a whole lot of trust in him."

"Everyone keeps telling me that," Jason sighed.

"Well, yeah. Y'know you and I had the ideal childhood, right? All the capes envy us. Both our parents are alive, our stepparents are cool, nobody's evil, and we actually _got therapy_ to help us cope with the childhood trauma that's pretty much a required part of life for a hero's kids. We're the lucky ones." Kala couldn't help a ghostly laugh at the end of that. She knew it was all true, that to the others – the orphans, the abused, the endangered – she and Jason had lived under a protective crystal dome for most of their lives. Sometimes she called her brother 'Golden Boy', jealous of how his life seemed to fall neatly into place compared to her scattershot, dreamy ways … but to most of the people they worked with, they were _both_ Golden Children.

"We had each other, too," Jason said, as if he'd heard the run of her thoughts. "Most of them don't get that. If they have siblings, there's drama. You and me … everybody wishes they had a sister like mine. Little bit crazy, yeah, but you're cool. And you always come swooping in to save my bacon."

Kala caught her breath. "I … sorry, I needed to hear that. I didn't want to be in this. But wherever you go, I can't help but follow. I'm not ever gonna leave you alone. You're my _brother_. If you're in trouble, I'll be there."

"I love you," he said, his voice shaking a little. "And I _miss you_, Kal. That's what made me so mad, that it looked like he was gonna split us up."

"No one will _ever_ split us up," she said, her voice shaking, too. "Anybody tries, I'll kick the shit outta them. Jay's hard-headed but he's not _dumb_. And … I have a lotta feelings about this, but I don't know where it's going, or how far. We don't really talk about it like that. You know how it is – you think too hard about something, it gets taken away from you. Look at Sebast." She couldn't help the way her voice broke on the end of that.

"Sebast wasn't thinking hard enough," Jason said. "Or he was thinking really hard about how he wanted things to be, not how they actually were. You can't blame yourself for everything that happened, Kal."

"Yeah, I can," she whispered, closing her eyes tight against the threat of tears.

He sighed, sounding worried. "Kal … I know you're pretty serious about Jay. But you're really broken up about Sebast, too. What do you really _want_?"

That was the question, wasn't it? She gave a soft, broken laugh. "I want Jay. I … I think I love him. But I want Sebast back, too. I miss him so much."

"What if you can't have both?" Jason asked gently.

She made a choked little noise, pressing a hand to the center of her chest. Kala _knew_ it would come to this, if Sebast did come back it would have to be different. One of them would have to move out, or at the very least they'd have to have separate rooms, the closeness between them would _have_ to be pushed back for sanity's sake – for Jay's sake. It would all have to change for them to stay friends, and that part of her relationship with Sebast would be over. Her heart ached to think of it … and ached just as much to think of giving up Jay. She needed him at her side in a fight, she needed his confidence in dealing with the Empress, she needed the safety that lay in him knowing the worst of her, all her darkness, all her flaws, and him just _not caring_. Jay saw her brighter than she was, and made her feel lighter, the weight of history lessened.

"I want both," Kala whimpered. "I know, it's all a mess, no matter what happens I'm gonna lose _someone_. But it's not _fair_, Jase. I'm not like you, I didn't meet the love of my life when I was fourteen, and I'm not like Dad. Clark and Superman both fell for the same woman. Sebast is the perfect match for me as KLK, and Jay's the perfect match for the Blur. It's not even about who I'm in bed with, it's about who I am when I'm with them. They both know me like no one else – but different sides of me. I need them both like I need both sides of who I am."

Jason was quiet, and she knew for him things were much easier. Superboy was just Jason in a uniform. He didn't have the essential schism in his soul the way she did, a sharp divide even more fragmented than the two roles her father played. There was KLK onstage, and the Blur in uniform, and the shadow behind the Blur that answered to Empress. Underneath it all was Kala herself, Kala Lane-Kent, Kala Kal-El, just Kal. And she loved them both.

"I promise you, I didn't plan for any of this," Kala whispered.

"I know, Kal," Jason said softly. "It's just … this is the only thing I can't help you with. If it was like, some guy hassling you, I could go punch him to the moon. But I can't figure it out for you, and it's tearing me apart. I don't want my sister hurting."

"I don't wanna _be_ hurting, either," Kala said plaintively. "I just … Sebast and I were in denial for so long, we kept telling ourselves we were just friends. And I thought, maybe we wouldn't have to choose. But I'm not like him, I can't put my whole heart into my relationship with him and just screw somebody on the side. I can't just be coworkers with benefits with Jay. It'd be so much easier if it worked out like that, but it's more. Jay's told me stuff that _Bruce_ doesn't know. I didn't even plan to _like_ Jay, he was such an ass when we met, but now … I can't help it. I'm almost afraid for him to know how much. He runs from love, Jase, every woman he's ever loved has _royally_ screwed him over, all the way back to his bio mom handing him over to fucking _Joker_."

Jason was quiet a moment. "Do you think he loves you, too?"

"I think so, but … Jase, he'd saw his arm off with a butter knife before he said it," Kala replied. "I mean, he stayed even when he found out about me and Sebast. If it was just working together and sex, he'd have called it quits then. Hell, most guys would've bailed as soon as they realized I was sharing a bed with another guy."

"Well, it's Sebast," Jason said reasonably. "He doesn't swing that way."

Kala laughed softly, rubbing her temples. "He did once. And when we had our big fight, he basically said he's been thinking of swinging my way again. So, you know, I have _that_ on my conscience too, making Sebast question his sexuality. And proving his parents' most ignorant assumptions right."

"Aw, shit," Jason said, clearly surprised.

"Yeah. My love life is a mess. What else is new?" Kala just laughed softly, at her own superhuman ability to fuck things up. "Also it was over a year ago that this happened. So."

"Yikes. Wait, if you knew that long ago, before you ever went to Gotham, then why didn't you do something about it?" And that was her dear earnest brother, confused when the rest of the world wasn't as clear-cut as his life.

Kala chuckled. "We were both drunk, Jase. It wasn't like you and Cassie – she did everything but take out a billboard to let you know she was interested. Shit, _I_ saw it, and I wasn't even around you two that much. Sebast and I, we were both scared to cross that line. I don't wanna be that girl chasing her gay best friend. So we didn't say anything about it, everything went back to normal, and we didn't talk about that night at _all_ until the big fight in Denver. Nothing really _changed_, anyway, Marlene was on the next tour with us and it was all the same as it ever was. Until this past summer, when we were apart for so long. It hurt so much to leave him, and I missed him like crazy while I was in Gotham. He missed me, too. But I went to Gotham to get him out of my head, to stop pining … and it worked. For a while. Until I came back and he'd realized how much _he _missed _me_. But in the meantime, Jay happened."

Jason sighed. "This is _so_ gross to think about, but getting under someone else is supposed to get you over the person you're missing."

She scoffed at that. "For your information, I didn't find myself up against a wall, on top of, or underneath Jason Todd until August. And also, it didn't work out that way for me, so I guess my rebound button is broken."

"TMI!" Jason yelped. "Okay, sorry, but you did _not_ need to swing back like that."

She shook her head slowly. "No, it was, well, not too long after we went against Joker. He was carrying kryptonite, and Jay tried to get me to leave, but I wouldn't let him go toe to toe with his nightmare alone. I jumped in, and … have you ever seen Joker? Ever looked him in the eye?"

"Not that close," Jason admitted, and she heard him shudder. "Everyone was _real_ pissed when we found out you'd gone up against him."

"Yeah. About that." Her laugh was as dry as the last leaves falling from the trees, every drop of life and joy drained from it. "I've looked a _lot_ of scary people in the eye, Jase. Luthor, Dru-Zod, Scarecrow, Poison Ivy. Joker is _different_. There's nothing home behind his eyes. Even Ivy, cold as she is, it's like looking into the windows of a house where maybe only one room gets lived in, but there's still life there, still _something_. She might only care about one person, but she knows how to care. Joker … it was like looking into the windows of a house on fire. There's nothing home but chaos and … not even rage. It's _fun_ to him. I'll hear that laugh in my nightmares."

"Jeez," Jason whispered, in a small voice.

"I'd rather go on a cruise with Luthor _and_ Dru-Zod than ever be that close to Joker again," Kala said, as she'd never spoken to anyone else. The creeping horror still clutched at her belly with an ice-cold fist. "Luthor's twisted, but we can handle him. Dru-Zod, I know what his deal is. He wouldn't risk hurting me. Last of my kind, and all. If he were still around, still popping up in Metropolis every once in a while to remind us how he'd had me under his sway … I don't think he'd last very long. Not like Joker has."

"No, he wouldn't," Jason replied coldly.

She gave a chilly laugh. "Don't let Dad hear you say that."

"Dad would do it too. He'd hate himself for it, but if he could get his hands on Zod, he'd break the bastard's neck just like I would," Jason said, in a level voice. "Zod's the reason you think you're not good enough, and either me or Dad would kill him for that alone."

"That's why I did it," Kala whispered. "So you wouldn't have to."

"You shouldn't have needed to," Jason argued, his voice just as quiet as hers. "It shouldn't have been up to you alone. But Kal … it had to be done. You know, I've got a streak of Mom in me too, but Dad doesn't have that. Dad doesn't _want_ to kill them. If it was over you, he would."

"And I don't want that for him," Kala insisted.

"Too bad. We love you. There's nowhere you can go where we won't follow." His tone was implacable, almost fierce. "I might've been mad at you, Kala, but I'd never not love you. And this … this has been hard to understand. Nothing could make me walk away."

"I love you, Jase," Kala replied.

"I love you too. I won't let anyone take you away from me," Jason said, as he'd said to her in the dark of the Gertrude's gallery. His voice broke, sounding like his six-year-old self again, and Kala whimpered to hear it, tears tracking down her cheeks. They had been two scared, lonely children, just realizing who their father was and what that meant for them – not the powers, not yet, it meant they were targets for men like Luthor.

Kala remembered Brutus' hand closing around her forearm, bruising-tight, and she hadn't understood at that age why a grown man would be so friendly to two strange children. She remembered crying out in pain, trying to get away – and the piano flying through the air. It landed across the room, Brutus hidden beneath it, Jason wheezing with effort. _No one hurt Jason Kent's sister_.

Their roles reversed later on, as his strength grew, Jason never raising a hand to bullies when one punch could not just kill them, but _obliterate_ them. He ignored the teasing and the nasty names, but Kala couldn't. _No one hurt Kala Lane-Kent's brother._ Call him a sissy, throw a rock at him, and she'd pounce with a shrill scream of fury, rubbing bigger kids' faces in the dirt. She was smart enough to get them off school grounds, and even as a kid she knew the big boys would never tell that a little girl trounced them … but they left her brother alone.

It got complicated in the teenage years, when they'd quarreled over her boys and his infatuation with Giselle. She couldn't blame him for that, not really. Giselle was a con artist hired to infiltrate their family. And her own dalliances with boys were just a preview of the relationship issues in her future. Still, in the worst hour of her life, Kala had fought her brother – but not hurt him. In fact she'd saved him from injury, when the battle between her father and Dru-Zod brought down half a ceiling.

And he'd saved her, later, after she'd locked herself into the lead-lined armory and pulled the trigger on the kryptonite gun. Killing Dru-Zod, and expecting to kill herself. Very nearly accomplishing that, too. Kala remembered their last words to each other, in what she'd thought would be her final moments.

_A rattling wheeze beside her startled Kala, but she was too weak to flee. She realized she'd inadvertently crawled over to Dru-Zod, who lay trembling with the effects of the radiation. His skin had a terrible grayish pallor, and his eyes seemed wide and blind. "I'm sorry," Kala managed to say, her voice grating. "Sorry it had … to be this way. But you … you would have killed us … all in the end. Everything … you did for me … was for revenge."_

"_Not … all," he rasped back, turning his head toward her sightlessly. _

"_Liar." Her voice was now a harsh whisper. _

_The ghost of a chuckle turned into a cough. "Too late … for lies."_

"_Then … what?"_

_He was silent for several seconds, and Kala thought bitterly that it was just like him to die and leave her wondering. At last he spoke, his voice barely audible. "Father … brother … heirs of El … must die. You … needed you … rule beside me…"_

"_Too late for lies," Kala snarled harshly, and collapsed again in a coughing fit. The air seemed to have gone bad, scorching her lungs as she breathed, yet at the same time there wasn't enough of it._

"_No … lie," he managed. "You … Last Daughter … you … House of Zod … Queen, Empress…"_

_Only then did she understand the fate he'd intended for her. To rule at his side, to be the link between Krypton and humanity as he raised a new empire on Earth. Kala would have laughed if she could—that was her fantasy come true, to be recognized for the nobility of her Kryptonian blood, to play out every little girl's dreams of being a princess. _

_With a harsh chortle, she told Dru-Zod, "Rather … die."_

_To her surprise, he returned the laugh with a wheezing attempt at one. "Heir … of El … father's … daughter." His breathing suddenly grew harsher, and his spine arched as he strove desperately for air. Kala closed her eyes against the tears that now flowed, biting her lip; even though he had betrayed her, even though he had meant to turn her into a sort of puppet, it hurt her to watch him die._

_Dru-Zod fell back, panting, and even through the ringing in her ears Kala heard the unevenness of his heartbeat. It would be soon, for him—and she would die soon after. It would be for the best. "I couldn't … let you harm them. Not … my people. Not … my family. I'm sorry," she whispered again._

"_No," he replied, the merest modulation of his tortured breath. "Do not… Death … better than … oblivion… Better than … Zone…" He stiffened with a shuddering gasp, then let out that breath…_

…_and did not take another. Kala felt her breath begin to wheeze, her eyes screwed shut, her lungs feeling heavy. Not long to go now. Now she was alone, dying, with only the hope that her father and brother were far away from here._

They hadn't been far, though, both of them steeling themselves to save her, no matter what. Dad had peeled back the door then, unable to step inside the irradiated chamber, and Jason had rushed in, grabbing her up as her consciousness faded. The sun cured her, and from then on she and Jason had never _seriously_ fought again. Until this with Jay.

And she still carried that moment with her, always would. When Kala's back was against the wall, when it looked like her life was in danger, the Empress rose up to save her. Dru-Zod's Empress, who would do _whatever_ was necessary to protect herself and those she loved, who could look a nightmare in the face and not flinch.

Kala spoke quietly. "When I saw Joker, and realized he had kryptonite, I went full Empress. Jay didn't realize it until after we had him in custody. That sick fuck kept taunting Jay, wanting to know why his own name wasn't on Jay's headstone. _Give the craftsman his due,_ he said."

Her brother – gentle, sweet, funny Jason, who could crush coal into diamond in his bare hands, but who lifted baby chicks out from under their mother with such infinite tenderness that not even a broody hen would peck him – growled under his breath at that. He didn't even _like_ Jay, but he would've broken Joker's jaw to silence him if the words had been spoken in his hearing.

"I would have killed him for it, Jase. I was going to, and only Uncle Bruce stopped me." She paused, but Jason deserved the truth. "The only thing keeping me from dropping by Gotham General and snapping his neck is the fact that he might die on his own, and save us the trouble."

"I heard about it from Tim," Jase said, his voice husky. "He said … they think it was Harley. You didn't…?"

Kala managed a laugh. "If it was me, he wouldn't be in the hospital. I wouldn't even leave enough for the morgue. No, Harley did it. I was on the phone with Sebast at the time. Jay was with me, and Babs knows where we were, so we're both clear. Besides, Jay texted me the next bit of news – Harley went to the ER Vet the same morning. Joker shot one of the hyenas, so she kicked his ass. Damn shame his men dropped him at the ER. Without brain surgery, he would've been toast."

He squeaked a little at that, and Kala bared her teeth in unconscious imitation of Lois' furious scowl. "Joker needs to die. For what he did to Jay, for what he did to Babs, for everything he's done to everyone else, for everything he'll do if he's allowed to live. He beat a fifteen-year-old boy almost to death with a _crowbar_, Jase. Broke most of the bones in Jay's body. I've seen the medical records and the x-rays. And he did it all for Bruce's attention. So fuck Joker, if he survives this somehow, either me or Jay will get him in our sights when Bruce isn't there, and it'll be _over_."

"I can't blame you for that," Jason said, horror shading his voice. "But Kala … you don't have to be the one to do it."

"Someone does. And it won't be Bruce. I _get_ it, but at least if I'm the one, it'll be quick, and clean. And very certain. I've got enough heat vision to take him down to greasy smoke and bone fragments. Besides, if I do it, Bruce can't blame Jay."

Jason sighed. "Yeah, he can. Jay trained you. No matter what, if Joker dies, Bruce is gonna look at Jay. And this is one hell of a happy birthday conversation, you know it?"

Kala smiled sadly. "I think we _needed_ to get some of this said. Not even Mom and Dad know all of it. Jase … I love you. Thank you for calling me."

"I love you, too, Mothra. Thank you for answering," he said.

"Yeah, well, with that serenade, maybe I shouldn't have. Clearly I got the voice in the family," she teased, letting all the darkness drift away. No matter what, he was still her brother, and they were still the only two who knew and loved each other as only twins did. They shared everything, even the womb, and now he understood why she was so fiercely protective of Jay.

"Don't pick. I remember when Dad got you that karaoke machine when we were like eight and Mom swore up and down the windows were cracking," Jason joked back, and things were all right again.

After a little more teasing and small talk, Kala could fall back asleep, her heart at peace. Then again, Jason had always been able to do that for her. No matter what tempest stirred her, Jason had always been her island of safety.


	10. Every Second, Every Thought

**Authors' Note:** Another long chapter this week, so hopefully it makes up for last week's absence. We thoroughly enjoyed our vacation!

* * *

The weekend arrived, and for Kala that was actually Sunday and Monday. The band was on stage Friday and Saturday, so other people's weekend was her busiest time. As usual, the rock star life turned everything upside-down.

Sunday night was the family birthday party, with Mom and Dad, Richard and Lana and Kristin, and Jason and Elise even made it in. The Kent and White dogs ran back and forth in delight, getting petted by everyone. Kala had taken one look at her brother, her lower lip trembling, and had stumbled over to fall into his arms, the pair of them clinging to each other with half-sobbing laughter. Jason had picked her up and spun her around, and Elise had rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. Oh, those two. But things were right between them again, and everyone could see Kala couldn't help the way the relief went to her head like champagne, making her giggly for the rest of the evening. Elise watched with her own level of relief; to have the twins, who were so close instinctively, off-balance pitched everything else into chaos.

Hugs and kisses and playful teasing, as was always the way with the Lane-Kent-White clan, and Elise sat back to watch the silliness. Her advancing pregnancy spared her most of the the twins' roughhousing, at least. This particular birthday was more subdued than some; no renting out a hotel like Perry White had for their sweet sixteen, no over-the-top blow-out like the twins had planned and saved for at their twenty-first. It was fine, they'd all grown up, and the family appreciated this chance to get together more than they would a huge party. Besides, next year would be twenty-five. There was no telling what the lot of them could plan before then.

Another interesting fact about this particular celebration: everyone here, except Kristin, knew the family secret. And Elise knew Kristin's inquisitive mind; their future journalist was sharp enough and close enough to the source that they all predicted that she wasn't far from figuring it out. Like all teenagers, she was absorbed in her own struggles; Elise figured she had an extra dose of drama, with trying to navigate dating as a young lesbian, even in a city like Metropolis. But sometimes Elise caught her looking intently at Jason and Kala, that look that usually ended in pretty astute observations to the others, and wondered what she was thinking, how she was puzzling it out.

The only downside was the person who was missing, who'd come to the same conclusion. Elise had come with Jason as she had for years, but at every other birthday, Sebast would've been here, too. Every year since fifteen, even the years Elise herself had been away, making much over Kala the whole time. He was the one who made ridiculous, grandiose toasts to the twins, to Kala's golden pipes and Jason's firstborn scaly son, the damn iguana. If Elise felt his absence in the subdued celebration, so did the rest – but none of them mentioned it, not wanting to mar the day. He'd mailed a box to the Kents' apartment, and she'd spotted Kala eyeing it with a troubled expression. The birthday girl herself was more somber than she usually was on these occasions, clearly feeling the loss, but would shrug it off as soon as someone spoke to her. Silently, the whole family took the cues to prompt her as soon as they noticed, trading quick looks. Their poor girl.

They all decided to open gifts first, and Kala reached boldly for that one immediately, tearing into it, biting her lip even as she kept her expression determined. A medium-sized flat box, and Elise knew it had to be clothes even before Kala drew the shimmering black blouse out of it. Only Sebast, or Lois, would buy clothes for Kala. Sebast knew her taste intimately, and Lois knew anything she liked in a darker tone would suit her daughter.

The blouse was somehow iridescent black, long-sleeved, the collar and cuffs glossy as raven's wings. Kala whispered under her breath, "_Wow_," as she held it up against her.

Lana reached over and fingered the sleeve, her designer's instincts intrigued. "That's very nice. I wonder how they managed the color."

"I like that. It's got a lot of blue and green in it, somehow," Elise said.

Kala looked at it for a long moment with the most longing look on her face, and Elise saw her eyes mist over, before she shook her head and took a deep breath. It took a moment, Jason reaching over to squeeze her shoulder in silent support, but Kala looked up and gave them a crooked smile that show she had it under control again. "I always said it, Sebast has great taste. In clothes, anyway. In men, not so much."

Oh, _Kal_. They had all known it was going to be hard for her, that it _was_ hard for her, but it hurt all the more to see. Sebast wasn't having an easy time of it, either, Elise knew. But the family was determined to not let it dim the day anymore than it had to. They were _not_ gonna go down that maudlin road, so before anyone else could step in, Elise arched her eyebrows and spoke up. "I don't think he _wants_ good taste in men. Come on, open mine next!"

"Hey, it's my turn!" Jason said indignantly, and tore into one of his gifts, which turned out to be from Lana. She'd evidently traded on her own experience in clothing stores, and gotten him a selection of extremely geeky science-themed t-shirts.

Safely redirected, Kala hurried to open her next gift, and cooed over the boots Elise had picked out for her. They wore the same size, as attested by the way her own shoes somehow ended up in Kala's closet so often back in high school. And then the rest of the gifts, from practical to playful, books and jewelry and some gift cards too. Elise had gotten her husband a hoodie she'd had to import from Japan, with Godzilla emblazoned on the back. He loved it, of course. Richard had wrapped a tin of breath mints in five different boxes, and Kala rolled her eyes to see it, all of them laughing at his teasing. Elise just chuckled; that was par for the course with her other father-in-law. Richard was well-known for nesting-box Christmas present-wrapping, though he always reserved the most sadistic wrapping for Lois. No one would soon forget The Year of the Duct-Tape. "Well, open it," he'd finally said, and she did, disclosing a collection of antique coins from around the world instead of mints.

It had become a thing in the twins' childhood, Jason had told her over the years, the parents never fully exchanging their currency on coming back from a foreign trip, giving the kids coins from far away to flare their imagination until they could explore on their own. As time went on it had extended to older coins, starting with an Egyptian marketplace find that Lois had found out on a junket with Perry and setting all four of them to get more competitive over it. Jason had gotten Grecian coins last Christmas, Kala pouting at being left out. That hers now were of the same, only a little older, was enough to make her squeal with glee and hug Richard, gloating adorably over her prize to her brother. Jason only laughed and got her in a playful headlock, trying to steal the coins, Kristin launching from the couch to help him by tickling her big sister. Laughter ruled then, the tears forgotten for a while.

Everything wound down over dinner, beef bourguignon being the twins' all-time favorite just like their dad, and then cake, a homemade white pumpkin honey cake with marscapone icing that Lana had discovered a few years ago, which had been deemed an instant classic by both Kala and Jason. Pleasantly stuffed, Kala and Jason thoroughly spoiled with gifts, the whole family basked in togetherness. Kala dropped onto the sofa next to Elise and leaned her head on Elise's shoulder with an immense sigh. "Hey, incubator," she said.

"Hey, chanteuse," Elise replied, and nudged her forehead against Kala's affectionately, knowing the answer before she asked the question. "What's up, Elvira?"

A gusty sigh at that, then a groan of frustrated aggravation she was all-too-familiar with, both twins making the same sound. "Just … you know. Missing somebody I have no business missing. And missing somebody else I have every right to miss for other reasons. And annoyed that I feel bad about both at the same time. And relieved and grateful that I get to see all of you guys, because I miss you, too. I will be _so_ thrilled when this tour is over. Not that I want to think about what comes after." Kala snaked an arm around her for a hug, pulling her feet up and leaning into her side, and Elise hugged her back as best she could. Yeah, poor Kala was tired and in emotional flux. She didn't envy her the situation. With a sigh of her own, Elise pressed her lips against Kala's black hair.

Jason was sitting with Kristin, looking at the photos in her phone from her last trip to the museum, and he glanced up. "No canoodling. I haven't forgotten that whole 'steal my woman and raise my children as your own' thing yet."

Elise chuckled at that, shaking her head at her husband as he winked at her. He'd seen his twin's face, heard her tone; provoking her was the best thing he could do at the moment and it showed just how much they were getting along again. The Lizardboy and Elvira Show was now broadcasting just as it always had again. In its own kind of heartwarming predictability, Kala glanced up to coolly flip him off, which started Kristin giggling and made Lana give a long-suffering sigh. Kala leaned into Elise more, though she had careful of the belly separating them, closing her eyes on a smile. "You should be so lucky."

After all of the turmoil that they had been through in the last few week, to see Jason and Kala just letting themselves relax and banter was a great thing. "Nah, I don't have the patience for rock star drama," Elise said lightly, playing with her sister-in-law's hair, Kala leaning into her hand with a happy sigh. "Also I'm not interested in collecting the set. Unlike half your friends."

Both twins snorted, but Kala looked at her slightly, seriously. There was a flash of real, absolutely unexpected honesty there, despite her teasing tone. "I'm glad Jase has you. Even if he _did_ have to steal you from me in the first place."

The other girl heard and understood her without a doubt. _You're lucky, you know and have what you want and how to keep it, don't take it for granted. _ Oh, she read Kala loud and clear on that one. It had taken a while to make up her mind, but there were no regrets. Her place was here, among gods and monsters, shedding light in the darkness of their unknown, within this family of two worlds who only wanted to try to save it. Elise had come a long way before making that decision, taking the time to consider her options, and there was nowhere she'd rather be. The two of them locked gazes for a moment before she gave Kal a smile and a little nod, nudging her with her chin again. Nope, she was right where she needed to be, with these two doofuses still. "Yeah, well, you weren't complaining at the time," Elise replied, without rancor. "And quit whining, it's not like I went far, when you think about it. I'm just glad you and Jason talked it out."

That got a nod from where Kala had resettled her head on her shoulder. "We can't stay mad at each other for long," she admitted. "Even if he is a giant dork."

"And even if you're the biggest boogerhead alive," Jason added cheerfully from the couch.

Kristin sighed dramatically. "You guys need some new insults. You've been rolling on Lizardboy and Boogerhead and Dopey and Elvira since before I was _born_."

"Not true. Elvira didn't come up until you were like seven," Jason said, rumpling her auburn hair. "Mostly 'cause Kala didn't go Goth until fourteen or so." That devilish light sparked in his eyes, one that the pair of them shared far more than either would admit. Elise also knew that when the both of them trained the look on you, you'd just be better off getting out of line of sight. Trying to stay out of mischief when they were united was a lost cause. "Hey, you know what, Kal? I could bring back Colonel Panda!"

Elise didn't even need to see to know Kala glared at him. "And I could come over there and kick your butt, too, Canhead. Bet me I can't."

The unexpected memory made her crack up with unabashed hilarity. Elise had seen photos of Jason's monster impression with the trash can over his head, and dissolved into laughter. Jason, though, had no idea Richard had shown her the video file he had with several of Jase's outings, with very clear audio, titled _Godzilla: The Early Years_. "Stop! Come on, you guys, lay off. I'm too pregnant to laugh this hard."

That got a snort of laughter from Kala. "Yeah, we need to put down puppy pads if we start the Kala and Jason Comedy Show," she said, deadpan, and Elise elbowed her. She only grinned, and continued, "Okay, okay, I'll cool it. I don't want to startle you into an early labor. Try to hold on 'til the tour's over, okay? I have way too much on my plate to be an aunt, too."

Now it was Elise's turn to give her own amused snort. "You think my plate's not full, too?"

"Of course it is, Dr. Thorne, but we all know our own mad scientist wouldn't have it any other way," Kala pointed out, the one to nudge this time.

Elise looked over at her, knowing this birthday was just a bit too melancholy without Sebast. They had danced around it long enough. Time to just ask one of her best and oldest friends what no one else was willing to right now. "You going to be all right, Kal?" she asked softly.

There was a poignant pause, then Kala reached for, and squeezed, her hand. Still, Kal wouldn't look her in the face, hiding against her shoulder. "Yeah. Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" she heard her reply, before asking her about their latest choices for baby names, effectively redirecting the conversation.

That answer hadn't sounded anywhere close to sincere to Elise, but what else could she do? Pry into her best friend's psyche and make her cry on her birthday?

…

The next evening, Kala hung up on her agent and checked her texts, having felt the phone buzz while she talked to Jenna. Honestly she was just hoping for some kind of good news. Saturday night's show was frankly grueling, with sound issues at the venue that forced them to start late and stay late. Derek had been on the verge of a complete meltdown the whole time. And Sunday dinner with her parents had been better than expected, with things between her and Jason back to normal. Still, she wasn't looking forward to hitting the road again. The tension in the band was ratcheting up again. They believed her mysterious boyfriend was following the tour, which explained why she slipped out most nights, and kept razzing her about not just inviting him onto the bus. Kala couldn't tell them _she_ was flying to see _him_, of course, so she'd fobbed them off by saying it would be awkward. Like inviting Jenny onto the bus. That had made Robb, who was counting the days until he met her, blush furiously. Kala was grateful for that, since they all started razzing _him_ instead of realizing that she had no intention of bringing Jay to the same loft she'd shared with Sebast.

Not that they could see him, anyway, since he was in Gotham, but the multiple lives she was leading required layers upon layers of misdirection. Kala was frankly growing tired of it all. Part of why her time with Jay was a relief was because she didn't have to lie about anything, with him.

Enough wool-gathering. The text message was from Jay, and her heart lifted just to see it. _You free tonight? I owe you a bday gift._

Smiling, Kala could imagine what sort of gift it might be. She quickly typed back, _Now I am. What do you have for me? Did you wrap it special?_

She could imagine him choking on air, reading that, but amazingly his response came back without keysmashing. _The gift IS the wrapping. Come on over and see._

Now that was enough to pique her curiosity, and as soon as Kala could escape prying eyes, she flew to Gotham, and hovered to knock lightly at Jay's window. He let her in, grinning mischievously. "Happy belated birthday, K," he told her.

Oh, that was an ominous amount of amusement from the man before her. "Thanks," Kala said, and leaned up to kiss him. Jay wrapped his arms around her, and for a long moment nothing existed but the two of them.

Kala would've been content to just stand there kissing him for half the night, but Jay drew back. "C'mon, I wanna see your face when you see this," he said, and caught her hand, tugging her over to his closet.

Where a garment bag hung over the door. "You got me clothes?" Kala asked, curiously. Very few men bought clothes for women anymore … but then, after making her new uniform, Jay _did_ have all her measurements, in more detail than even her costume designers. She didn't let herself think about the other man whose gift to her had been clothing.

"Just the one outfit," Jay said, and unzipped the bag.

Inside was a simply beautiful dress, wine-red, with a long flaring skirt. Nipped in at the waist to follow her curves, with a halter top that left her back partly bare, it was enticing without being scandalous. Kala stroked the fabric, rich and silky. "This is _gorgeous_," she murmured.

"You like it?" Jay asked, and still the light of mirth danced in his eyes.

"I _love_ it," Kala said, and didn't even begin to wonder where she'd wear it. For a dress like this, she'd _find_ a venue.

"Great," Jay said, all but bouncing in place. "I got you shoes, too. You think you can change in less than an hour?"

Kala looked at him speculatively. "Where are we going?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out," he said, gloating. "C'mon, change. I gotta get my suit on, too."

She laughed, surrendering to whatever his evil plan was. "Good thing I keep a makeup bag here, now, isn't it?"

"You don't even need makeup," Jay scoffed, shedding his t-shirt. Now she saw the dress shirt and black suit hanging up, waiting for him to change.

"Yeah, I do," Kala laughed, and he was so obviously brimming over with delight that she caught it, too. "You're crazy, you know that? But I…" _love you for it_ almost left her mouth, and Kala bit her tongue before it could. Better not to ruin this night, just let it be whatever wild adventure Jay had in mind.

"But you what?" he asked, looking over at her teasingly.

"But I think I like that in a man," Kala finished more safely.

"Good. Because the crazy train never stops in the Todd household." Jay finished shucking his clothes, and Kala stopped to eye him until he threw his pants at her. Laughing, she stripped down and ducked into the bathroom to do her makeup. She didn't wear a lot of red, barring a few blouses stolen from her mother, whose color it was more often. Luckily Kala had enough neutrals in her palette to create a look that wouldn't be swamped by the dress, or clash with it. She laid on the eyeliner so that the green in her hazel eyes stood out, and stepped back to look at herself.

From the doorway where he was fixing his cuffs, Jay said, "I never understood why it was hot to watch a woman put on her makeup. I'm getting it now. That might be the matching lingerie, though."

"Shut up," Kala told him, and ducked past to shimmy into the dress. Given the halter top, she had to leave the bra off, since it would show. Luckily the dress had support in the bust. Jay came around to zip it up for her, and trailed his hands down her bare back to her waist. "Don't make us late for whatever this is," she warned.

"I won't," Jay said, and kissed the back of her neck. Kala shivered at the press of his lips. "Take your hair down. We're driving instead of flying. And it's nice like that."

"Pushy, pushy," she mock-complained, but did take her hair down from the messy bun it had been in most of the day. Kala finger-combed the waves into something like order, and Jay went to fetch her shoes.

They were flats, soft-soled, and at the sight of them she looked up at Jay. "I would've thought heels, with this dress."

"Then you thought wrong, Princess," Jay said, his eyes laughing. "Let's go get in the car."

"Where are we going?" she asked as they headed out to the elevator.

"The art museum," Jay said, grinning again.

"I like art," Kala said, her eyebrow creeping up as she wondered why they'd gotten dressed up for it. Was there some kind of party tonight? She hadn't kept up with the Gotham social calendar – and was surprised that Jay had. A swanky party seemed like exactly the kind of thing he avoided.

When they arrived, Jay reluctantly handing over his prized Charger to the valet, Kala got out and saw the banner on the front of the museum. In bold script it proclaimed, 'The Art of the Waltz,' and Kala leaned against Jay's arm. "You're taking me waltzing for my birthday?" she whispered, and tried not to tear up. Her eyeliner wasn't waterproof.

He looked at her, and apparently misinterpreted her expression, because his answer was, "Unless you'd rather do something else…"

Kala cut him off by grabbing his tie and yanking him down for a long, searing kiss. "No," she said softly, "this is perfect. C'mon, Jaybird. Let's go waltzing."

His hand slipped down to the small of her back, and he was so damn _proud_ of himself that it almost hurt to see. "Pretty good birthday present, then?"

"_Best_ birthday present," Kala replied, slipping her arm around his waist. "You're fucking _brilliant_. I don't know of anyone else who would've thought of this."

He beamed, and as they approached the door Jay asked, "Better than naming a bat after you?"

She rolled her eyes, and they walked in laughing, drawing everyone's attention to the lovely young couple. "I _love_ that bat, and it was very sweet of Dick, and I'm going to find a way to take her home. But there's nothing romantic about the zoo," Kala admitted.

"Oh, you think this is romantic?" Jay asked, brows going up. "It's an excuse to put my hands all over you for two hours. It's sexy as hell."

"And you're definitely getting laid afterward. Just don't be a cynic." They made their way toward the dance floor, and Kala could hear a string quartet playing all those lovely old tunes in waltz time.

Jay chuckled softly. "Can't be a cynic when I'm trying to figure out just how many layers of puns around the word 'wrap' this actually is."

That won him a sigh and another roll of her eyes. "Jesus fucking Christ, Robin."

The band paused for a new number, Jay grinned, and they set off onto the dance floor together.

…

From the way she kissed him, Jay's gift had smashed everyone else's out of the park – and that was just the way he liked it. Dick had gone cutesy, well, Jay had gone old-school romantic as hell. Not that he admitted it out loud, but waltzing was _classic_. Besides, there'd be Wayne charity balls coming up with the holiday season, so he might as well get them both out for a fancy dress party they could _enjoy_.

And Jay was thoroughly enjoying himself. Kala was too. They were attracting plenty of smiling glances from other dancers; apparently they made a showy couple. That might've been the dress, though, which swirled with each turn. Or the sparkle in Kala's eyes.

Jay had never done anything like this before. Hell, he'd never gone to prom because he'd never finished high school, first damn near dying and then going off to get his GED in murder instead. Formal dress and ballroom dancing just wasn't something he'd done _willingly_, and never in a relationship. He'd taken it as required learning for a Wayne boy, and never believed he'd use it otherwise. But he and Kala both stretched way out of their comfort zones for each other.

Then again, the whole dating thing was weird anyway. He and Talia hadn't had a whole lot of downtime together, he and Rose hadn't either, and he'd finally gone on actual _dates_ with Donna, who was delighted to go to dinner and movie like normal people did.

Kala, though … Kala was something else. She put her own spin on dating – no one else had ever been game to _fly to Hong Kong_ for an evening on the town. And then here she was in Gotham with him, moving with her eyes closed in perfect harmony to the sounds of the band, as if they were just another pair of Gotham's wealthy young well-bred citizens. Instead of, y'know, two vigilantes, one from the Gotham gutter and another from a whole other galaxy, both of whom usually spent their nights doing extremely risky and mostly illegal things. Man, her fans would be _so_ confused. Jay chuckled, and she looked up at him curiously. "Clean up pretty nice, don't we?" he said.

"Yeah, we both do," Kala replied, and squeezed his hand. "This is nice, Jaybird, but don't go thinking this is all I want. I happen to like the whole package – and _all_ the places you take me."

Jay leaned in to kiss her cheek, and whispered, "I'll remember you said that if we ever have to go down to the sewers."

The playful light in her gaze turned solemn. "Seriously, Jay. Don't ever change. Not for me, not for anybody."

Step and turn, looking down at her, and he answered with more honesty than he'd meant to trot out tonight. "You might be the only person in my life who's ever said that to me."

"Because I like you for _you_," Kala said. "I know you don't consider yourself a Wayne boy, and I don't want you thinking that's something I want you to be. I just want _you_. I'll be just as happy beating the shit out of guys in the Bowery and curling up in your apartment with a book afterwards."

"Yeah, but then I don't get to watch you move in this dress," Jay said, his lips curving up in a smile. "Trust me, Princess, it's not exactly a hardship."

Kala just rolled her eyes. "You in a suit is pretty damn good, too. I just don't want you thinking this is _all_ I want."

"Think I've got that. You enjoy the back-alley stuff a little too much to want to clean me up," Jay said lightly. Honestly, he was a little relieved to hear her say it. Kala had been so openly delighted from the moment she saw the banners outside – hell, from the moment she saw the dress – that for a few seconds he'd felt bad for _not_ taking her places like this before.

But the beautiful lady in the fancy dress dancing with him was just one more facet of who Kala really was. He knew about the hero, the rock star, and the shadow she'd rather not admit to. Just like she knew about the Robin, the crime boss, and the classic lit aficionado. There were far more than just two sides to either of them. The more Jay knew about Kala, the more he liked.

And hell, he could strip it all down to basics, to just this – the chemistry between them. The way they read each other and responded to every move, whether it was dancing or sex or sparring or out there on the street risking their lives. Kala never had to glance down at his feet while they danced, just _knowing_ where he was all the time. Wherever they were together, whichever of their selves they happened to be at the time, she just fit perfectly beside him.

"You're thinking some really deep thoughts," Kala said, drawing him out of his reverie. And then, with a small smile, she added teasingly, "I can tell by the burning smell."

Jay gave her a crooked grin, and spun her a little more vigorously. "Something's burning? Must be you, over-thinking it. Trust me, Kala, no man is looking at you in that dress and thinking anything more complicated than the average caveman."

She swatted his shoulder lightly and muttered, "Jerk," but at least he'd distracted her from any serious line of thought. And unless he wanted her to start wondering what was on his mind, he'd better lay all that aside, too. Jay took a deep breath, and let himself just enjoy this moment, dancing with the most beautiful woman he knew. Kala swayed in his arms, smiling indulgently at him, and Jay let himself get lost in her hazel eyes.

…

Kala danced the soles right out of her new shoes – but she and Jay could only laugh. After an evening of dancing, champagne, fancy hors d'ouvres, and plenty of flirty banter, he drove them both home, Kala sitting barefoot in the passenger side of the Charger.

She watched him drive and her heart pounded at the walls of her chest like it wanted to escape. How in the actual hell had the acidic, overtly-critical barbarian she met that first night turned out to be someone so damn _perfect _that he could have chosen a night like this? Kala had to admit, there were times when she liked dressing up and going out on the town. Her grandmother Ella had been a blueblood, of the New England Tremaines, and sometimes she liked letting that side of her heritage out to play. Fancy dresses and old-fashioned dances and damn, did Jay have to look _that_ good in a suit?

When he shifted gears, she put her hand over his, just enough to make him look at her. "It really was the _best_ surprise," Kala told him.

This time, Jay's smile wasn't leering, or nervous. Just warm and full of proud satisfaction. "Good," he said.

She sat back in the seat, watching his expression, and said, "Just don't you _dare_ cut this dress off me when we get back. I want to wear it again sometime."

Jay grinned at that. "I think I can manage that, Princess. No promises on the panties, though."

Kala growled, "Hey, this is the _good_ stuff. Those pumpkin panties the other week were five bucks at Target, I don't care about those. This costs more than I made in a shift back when I worked retail, which is a tag I take seriously. Don't go knifing up anything I paid good money for, Jay, or I'll steal that kris and jam it hard enough into the wall that you'll need help getting it out."

"C'mon, you're a rock star, you can afford to replace it," Jay laughed.

For a kid who hadn't started out to-the-manor-born… "And thinking like that is how rock stars and athletes and lotto winners go broke," Kala told him bluntly, crossing her arms and arching a brow. "I didn't grow up rich, Jay. My parents don't have a garage full of sports cars like Uncle Bruce. I might have some money now, enough to be comfortable, but I grew up knowing how to budget. It might not be as tight now, but I still mind it. Who knows when the bottom could drop out?"

"You think I didn't?" he asked. "K, I didn't have a bed frame when I was a kid – just a mattress on the floor. And after Mom died, not even that. I went from sleeping on a stolen moving blanket to Wayne freakin' Manor. And let's not even talk about the kind of money I ran around on when I was training with the League of Shadows, because the al Ghuls could buy and sell Bruce with the money lost in their sofa cushions. Money's not _real_, when you've been that poor and that rich."

Sometimes she had to remind herself just how completely bizarre his childhood had been. All things considered, chalk it up to yet another way he was different than anyone else she'd known. "Well, when you're middle class, money's real and it's something you don't take for granted, no matter who your father is," Kala said, shaking her head at him with a snort. "If it's that important to you, I promise to shop the clearance rack a little more, you Neanderthal."

He smirked at that. "Aww, but I like the fancy stuff, too. Honestly I like it all, 'cause it's on you. Hell, I liked you going commando for the masquerade ball."

Just that mention was enough to bring that night back with sudden, unexpected intensity. One helluva gutsy move, on her part, showing up unexpected and in disguise. Jay's reaction had been everything she'd wished for, and more. The warmth of the garage when they'd made it back to the Manor, his body pressed back against hers, the feel of his hands just a little rough over her skin as he reached back for her, the mask still hiding the one side of his face. The heat, the darkness in his voice before his lips met hers, her mind blanking a moment in sheer arousal. _Do you have any idea?_ he'd nearly growled at her when he had stopped the bike, overwrought from her teasing, ready to eat her up right there. The memory was so strong, Kala had to close her eyes against her body's reaction. Biting her lip, she barely managed to stifle a gasp. "Oh my fucking _God,_ you're still bringing that up?" Kala groaned, feeling the way her cheeks burned.

Jay laughed, his eyes wicked. "I'm still finding glitter in that bike. Face it, K, I like you in _and_ out of damn near everything. Must mean I just like _you_."

Kala opened her eyes to look at him in surprise, knowing the thoughts had to still linger in her eyes. Was it any wonder she couldn't keep her head right around this man? Give him a perfect good out for admitting anything, and he just surprised you by giving you the exact answer you wanted. Fighting down the fire in her blood, she gave him a warm little smile. Damn this man for making her want him so much. "Well, I'm glad, because you don't like a lot of people," Kala chuckled. "And I like you, too, however I can get you. In suits or uniform or civvies."

"Oh, so you don't like me naked?" Jay asked in mock-sorrowful tones.

Mentally, Kala very nearly snatched him to her and kissed him breathless, regardless of being in a moving vehicle at nearly over the speed-limit. Thank each and every deity out there for the level of control she was fighting to maintain and damn him also for being able to practically read her mind. When she could trust herself to speak, Kala could hear how husky her voice had gone in her wound-up state. "Keep talking like that and you'll make us cause a wreck. Just keep it up, Red."

"I never have any problems keeping it up when you're around," he shot back, and she winced a bit, suddenly realizing that she'd unintentionally set him up for that. He just laughed, and added, "I won't get in a wreck in the last five minutes it takes to get there."

Again, that night, so like this one but not, ate at her. His voice gruff, amazed, shocked, and more than a little hungry, _The hell's gotten into you?_ Her own, purring in his ear a reply of _You, _deciding to raise the stakes, to let him know with no misunderstanding that the first time would not be a one-night-only. Not unless he called it off.

The interior of the car was getting just a little too warm, her blood up, her skin alive with the memories taunting her. "You will if I climb into your damn lap. Which we are very much in danger of me doing _right now_. Shut _up_, Jay," Kala muttered, shooting him a heated look.

"Your invulnerability protects me if we're close enough, right?" Jay teased. "But you hafta buy me a new car if you make me wreck this one, Ms. Miser."

That gave her pause of a moment, considering their earlier disagreement, and she sighed with discontent anticipation. The man had a point, no matter how much the rest of her argued the logical answer. "I'm trying to decide if it would be worth it," Kala chuckled, and somehow kept her hands to herself until they made it back to his building.

Where Jay got out, and as she tried to negotiate the skirt out of the door, he came around to her side. "Can't let you get your feet dirty," he teased, and bent to pick her up.

Kala couldn't help the flush that warmed her when he lifted her. She'd been told that Jay had carried her upstairs at the Manor like this, once, but she'd been too deeply asleep to notice. Now, cradled in his arms, she couldn't help but meet his eyes and suddenly felt like her emotions were too plain. Desire was one thing, Jay didn't mind being wanted and certainly knew he was at this point, but all the rest of it he was still leery of. One romantic date, for her birthday, wasn't going to change that.

To cover the uneven mix of flutters in her chest and the ache growing below, Kala grinned saucily. "_And_ I get carried over the threshold, too? Mm, you really are turning up the charm, Mr. Todd."

He paused, and she feared she'd gone too far, but in the next instant his laugh rumbled through both of their chests. "I wouldn't want you to get the wrong impression, Princess," Jay teased, and made as if to drop her. Kala squeaked, effectively breaking some of the tension as he left her trying to catch her balance, but Jay caught her around the hips and hoisted her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. "There, is that caveman enough for you?"

The elevator rang with Kala's disbelieving laugh as he stepped into it. "Not a bad view, although I prefer your face," she shot back, smacking his butt.

Jay jostled her, dipping as if to drop her again. "Do that again, I'll shred the dress. I bought it, I can wreck it."

Kala squirmed in his arms, but not too much. She could've gotten loose if she really wanted to. "You will _not_, I _like_ this dress, I will absolutely lay you out if you rip it!"

"Then settle down, K. Focus on laying me instead of laying me out." The elevator dinged, and he strode out, quickly unlocking the apartment and bypassing his security. Kala hung over his shoulder like a coat, smiling to herself. It looked like she was going to get exactly what she wanted tonight.

Jay carried her all the way in to the bed, and tossed her on it with just the right amount of roughness to put a gleam in her eyes. He smiled at her, those ice blue eyes gone hot with desire, and then stepped forward to catch her knees and tug her to him. Kala gasped, and let her own smile grow wicked. "I guess you don't mind me getting dirty after all," she purred.

"That's half the fun, right there," Jay replied, and pinned her down delightfully.

Kala bit her lip, smirking up at him. It was the worst, not knowing if she should just drag him down to her or let him have his way. God, she wanted him so bad tonight, it ached. "Oh? So what're you gonna do, Red? Just talk about it?"

"I'd rather show you than tell you," he laughed, shrugging off the jacket and tossing it carelessly at a chair. Kala saw it slide to the floor, and sat up just enough to grab his shirt, yanking it up so she could put her hands on his chest. The play of muscle under his skin was fascinating, dashing hurried kisses over his scars while her fingertips traced the lines and curves there. Nipping him lightly, Kala tried to rein herself in, fighting the need again when she glanced up at him.

Jay ran his hands up her thighs, under the dress, and the expression on his face as he touched her like that was almost as enticing as the feel of his knowing hands on her body. Kala drew in a breath sharply, moaning low in her throat, and he pulled back from her just enough to catch hold of her panties and pull them off with a flourish. "I might keep those," Jay teased, tossing them across the room. "Something to get me through the days when you're stuck on tour and can't come see me."

She tipped her head back, the mental image of Jay regarding a pair of panties like some sappy romance novel heroine staring at a locket with the photo of her lost love enough to cut through the lustful haze for a moment. "You're ridiculous," she managed, voice husky with want despite her hilarity.

"Or maybe I'll just sell 'em on the internet," Jay shot back. "KLK's sexy panties, unwashed. Probably a couple grand, from your lonelier fans."

Not even that could ruin her mood at the moment. "Annnnd that's gross," Kala said, still chuckling. "I suggest you pay more attention to the real thing right in front of you right now, Mr. Todd, or those panties are the only sure thing you're getting tonight."

He gripped her knees again, tugging her back toward him, and ran his thumb meditatively along the inside of one thigh. Kala felt the minute drag of the calluses he had from shooting so much, and shivered a little at the heat in his touch. "Oh, I can't get enough of you, K," he murmured, and bent down to kiss her. His weight on her body was glorious; Kala arched up to meet him and buried her hands in his hair as they kissed.

Jay's hands were still up under her skirt, teasing higher in eager exploration, and Kala whispered against his mouth, "Don't let that stop you from trying, Jay." The way the dress bunched up around her hips, his hands on her, the need so needle-sharp and so intense, it all echoed so strongly that Kala moaned while the moments twined.

"Never gonna stop," he breathed now, his grip growing intent for a moment, and then he went back to caressing her. Just once, his touch ghosted across where she wanted it most, and Kala drew in a sharp breath … then Jay drew back, chuckling. "Don't wanna make it too easy for you, Princess."

The heat in her gaze was all too similar to the look she got right before her eyes sparked into flame. Jay wanted more, she could read that in his smile and the pattern of his breath and the eagerness of his hands on her – but he liked playing with her, too.

And she loved it when he did, but that didn't mean he got to gloat about it. Couldn't let him be too proud of himself, could she? Maybe it was time he remembered just _who_ he was tempting, here. Again, one way or another, she was going to get what she wanted tonight.

With her speed and strength, Jay didn't even know what was happening until Kala pinned him on his back, straddling his thighs. He looked up at her with surprise and delight, catching hold of her hips, and the feel of him against her was almost more than she could stand for an instant. But there would be plenty of time for that. "The last thing _you've_ ever been is _easy_," she growled, and leaned down to kiss him again, her loose hair almost curtaining them. "Name me one part of this that was ever any kind of easy."

"Besides pissing you off?" Jay laughed against her mouth, and Kala nipped his jaw playfully.

"Oh, pretty sure I can claim that, too, Mr. Hood," she admitted with a flash of mocking smile, taking a moment to run her hands down his chest appreciatively, leaning down to nuzzle into the curve of his jaw. "Actually, I think it's fair to say I took the Master's class on that one. Good thing you changed your mind, huh?" Nipping the line of his neck lightly, teasingly, she made a purring sound of happiness when she heard Jay give a low groan, his hips rising against hers. Letting her hands follow the shape of him, Kala just let herself revel in the feel of his skin on hers. She had never been the kind of person who would make demands on one's appearance when considering a relationship, but she had to admit that Jay had a definite advantage over all other men, going forward. She also wasn't the kind to wax poetic about that sort of thing, either. That said, he was gorgeous, any fool could see that, battle scars and all. The scars only added to it, for her – other men might have his striking coloring, or his chiseled jaw, but only Jay was _Jay_, with all the proof of Red Hood's courage and commitment written in his skin.

As she unbuttoned his pants, she asked him archly, "Trying to tell me you're not a grumpy bastard, too?"

"Can't be that grumpy, or that much of a bastard, if you're this eager to get me undressed," Jay teased.

"Maybe I just like difficult men," Kala grinned back. Which, God, was _that_ ever true in his case.

"I was when you first came to town," Jay replied, looking up at her with a sly smile curving his mouth. His hands slipped around to her rear, squeezing appreciatively, making Kala arch against him in response. He grinned at her for that. "Since I figured you out, the only time you've pissed me off was when you put yourself in danger."

That put her libido on pause for a moment. This was unexpected; unexpected and a little hurtful, to be honest. Was he really going to bring up this now, after their last conversation on it? Kala stopped, looking at him seriously. Regardless, they were going to get this straight right now. "That's what we _do_."

"Yeah, but I like you too much to let you do it without me right there beside you," Jay told her. That soothed her a little; he wasn't trying to handle her with kid gloves, or save her from herself. He just didn't want her in trouble without him by her side to share the risk and the triumph.

"What, you think I can't handle myself?" Kala asked, the taunting note back in her voice, deciding to be mollified.

"I know you can, but I like it better when you handle me," Jay teased.

She was very tempted to just rip the pants off him – it'd serve him right after all his remarks about destroying her clothes – but while she contemplated her comeback, Jay seized her waist and the initiative, flipping them both back over. Kala laughed as he pinned her down. "Surprised you haven't gotten bored of me yet," she goaded.

"Never happen," Jay said offhandedly, and tickled her. Pinned under his weight, Kala squirmed and yelped, struggling but not putting in the effort to fling him off. Jay stopped just long enough to shove his pants down, and she grinned wickedly at him.

In a heartbeat, she was on top again, and the good dress pants were in two pieces. That made Jay yelp, and Kala smirked down at him. "With what you invest in guns, you can afford to buy another pair of pants. Oh, poor baby, one less grenade." She mock-pouted at him, her eyes dancing with devilry.

"Oh you sneaky little…" Jay growled at her, and grabbed her by the nape of her neck, yanking her down for a searing kiss. Kala arched into him at that, barely noticing the way he tugged the ties around her neck.

Kala started to sit up, working on a comeback for that, and Jay tugged her back down insistently, pulling down the top of the dress to bare her breast. She'd intended to tease him a little more, but with his mouth at her nipple, somehow the words just didn't seem as important.

…

Jay rolled her underneath again, his teeth scraping her sensitive skin just enough to send a delightful chill down her spine, and she muttered something about getting him back for past sins. He chuckled, not caring about past or future, wholly involved in the present. Right now, all he wanted was her, and all she wanted was him. Kala whimpered, burying her hands in his hair, and Jay groaned. He drew back just enough to growl, "You have any idea how hot that is?"

"Did you have any idea you were gonna fuck me in this dress when you bought it?" she whispered back, her voice low, wanton, and so fucking sexy.

His grin was surprisingly sunny, for all the heat building between them. "Not really, but hey, you're always a good surprise. Even when glitter's involved."

"You'll never let that go, will you?" Kala laughed.

"Nope," Jay told her. He was down to boxers now, and shoved them off. That left them both still partly clothed, but with his shirt open and her dress both tugged down and rucked up, it was good enough. He didn't want to look away from her face, the playful and hungry light in her eyes, even for the few seconds it took to get a condom from the drawer … but _that_ wasn't a mistake he intended to make, no matter whose birthday it was.

Kala stretched under him while he rolled it on, and then reached for his biceps as he fitted his body to hers. "Guess I can get over that," Kala breathed, tightening her grip so she had the leverage to rise up and meet every thrust. "Since I won't let you go, either."

"I'm not going anywhere, Princess," Jay replied, and claimed her. _Fuck_, she always felt so damn _good_, and the way she always tipped her head back on a groan once he was inside her, closing her eyes, was too damn much. Conscious thought disappeared, Jay entirely wrapped up in sensation, moving with her a rhythm as intense as their dancing … if a little faster than waltz time.

Wrapping a leg around his hip, Kala turned and rolled him under her. Yeah, this was more like fighting than dancing, just as hot and heavy as their sparring sessions. He had zero issues with her taking control, but that didn't mean he was gonna lie back and think of Gotham. Jay caught her hips, arching up into the rhythm Kala set.

"Guess you got the birthday present you were expecting, after all," he told her hoarsely, watching her lidded gaze with avid desire. "And I still wrapped it."

"Of course, you did," she retorted, her voice husky. "After all of that, it's … the gentlemanly thing to do, … Heathcliffe."

Jay gave a throaty laugh; some gentleman _he_ was, even if the Heathcliffe nod hit pretty close to home. Sure, he could fake it for an evening of dancing at the art museum. Being extra careful was more about the fact that _neither_ of them were at all looking to have a kid at this point in their lives. Or _ever_, in his case. It could be worse – at least Kala was on the side of the angels – but no, that was the last thing either of them needed.

And that serious line of thought wasn't one he could maintain with Kala swiveling her hips urgently. Jay chuckled, and told her, "Real gentlemanly, this is."

She smiled at him, a slow simmering smile full of heat. "You believe in … ladies, first. I believe … that counts." She squeezed tight around him, making him gasp with sensation, and then added in a low musing voice, "Not that I'm thinking … in the least about being very … ladylike the next while …"

"Won't hear any complaints from me," Jay replied huskily, and that was the last intelligible conversation for a while – though things certainly weren't _quiet_.

…

Afterward, once they had both caught their breath, Kala gave a little whimper of halfhearted discontent and nudged his nose gently. Jay looked down at her in confusion; what was the unhappy noise about? That earned him a pout, his thoroughly-rumpled girl glancing from him, down toward the disheveled dress around her waist, and back up again. It took him a moment, still foggy, then laughed. Yep, despite the pair of them utterly wrecking the bed, Kala was still determined to not muss the dress too badly.

"Stop laughing and let me up, you heathen," she grumbled, still pouting. "If I get it hung up fast enough, the wrinkles might not be too bad. I swear, Red, if you ripped it…"

"I didn't rip it," he told her lazily. "Don't worry, it's not even stained. Yet another reason condoms are mankind's greatest invention."

She bopped him lightly in the shoulder for that. "_You…!_ Jay, you heathen. I can't even get up and put it to rights."

In response, Jay let his weight above her sag even more. Kala grumbled as he said, "Oh no, gravity's increasing … is this one of your superpowers? Can't … move…"

"I could rocket-launch you across this room and right through the wall," she growled, her brows furrowed in faux anger. "Get _up_, Jay! Smushing isn't sexy!"

If anything, he leaned harder into her. "Smushing is fun, though. And you won't throw me. You don't wanna ruin the dress, you won't risk ruining the rest of your present." His eyes sparkled with amusement; only with Kala did he get _silly_.

She muttered a few choice words under her breath, some of them in Kryptonese, and he thought he caught the phrase that meant 'obnoxious boy-child'. Proud that he'd picked it up so quickly, he was utterly unprepared when she straight-armed him up and off her, dumping him unceremoniously on the bed beside her. "_Asshole_," Kala said grumpily, getting up and slipping the dress off to check it for wrinkles or rips.

"That a nickname or a suggestion?" Jay asked, teasingly.

Her head whipped around, her eyes wide, and Kala looked utterly scandalized. "_Jay!_"

He just laughed, the sound rumbling in his chest. "I love the fact that we just fucked, a pretty epic lay actually, and I can still make you blush."

"You can make me blush over a lot of stuff," she scolded, and he knew they were both thinking about all the hot-blooded things they whispered to one another in the heat of the moment. The kinds of things that made him look forward to round two, if they had time tonight.

The dress was fine, so Kala hung it up properly. She grabbed a pillow to throw at Jay, then went into the bathroom to take her makeup off and get cleaned up. Jay just tossed his shirt at the chair, and lay back, smoking and staring at the ceiling. It'd been a damn good gift, he decided, one both of them could enjoy.

He smirked a little. Neither Dick nor Tim would believe he'd be capable of such an old-fashioned _romantic_ gesture, but Kala brought that out in him. And the whole dressing-up and behaving like civilized people was fun, for a while. Shit, she'd made playing tourists in Hong Kong fun, too. Looked like damn near anything he did with Kala would be enjoyable.

It was good to be more than a soldier. To remember that life was more than just the constant war in Gotham's streets. If Jay devoted every waking second to fighting injustice, he'd just burn himself out, get killed again – or worse, turn into Bruce, who apparently believed Batman was his real self and Bruce was just a cover. Alfred and Selina and Babs called him back to reality, but Jay saw him more clearly now that he was a grown man, too. And Bruce … hell, for all he tried to do, Bruce was floundering, too.

Kala could remind Jay, without snark or claws, that he could be _himself_ beyond just being Gotham's vengeance on the wicked. She knew damn near everything about him, and she didn't share that around, but she appreciated his fondness for Austen and understood his reluctance to deal with certain things. She'd back him up, no matter what, and then drag him off and make him take some time for himself. One hell of a woman, and he was a lucky man to have her.

She came back to bed, fresh-faced and smiling, and Jay stubbed out the cigarette to pull her close. Chuckling, Kala snuggled into his shoulder. "Happy birthday to me," she murmured.

"Yeah, sorry I forgot to get you a card," Jay said flippantly, and she reached up to flick his nose. "Ow!"

"Don't be an ass. You got me the perfect present," Kala purred.

"Shoulda known you'd love clothes most of all," Jay muttered. "Alfred made you a cake, by the way. It's in the fridge."

"Thank him for me. And stop being thick-headed," she scolded back sleepily. "The best gift was _you_."

"Well, a certain part of me, anyway," Jay teased.

Kala looked up at him, her eyes stern. "Yeah, the sex is incredible with us and rest assured, since you want to hear me say it: yes, I'm more than overjoyed with your dick. Let's just get that on the record, okay? _Clearly_ I am. That said – I like _you_ more. Spending time with you, just the two of us. There's not as much time as I'd like, but I'm glad for what we have. There's no one I'd rather fight beside or waltz with."

He rumpled her hair, relenting. It was his nature to deflect and joke instead of talking about anything _real_, but Kala was the realest person he knew. Maybe giving her a little more reality from him couldn't hurt tonight. "Same here. Of course, now I know that, next year I can just clear out the apartment and put on some old waltz records."

She smiled slowly, clearly touched, those hazel eyes blinking a little even as she tried to hide it. "I'd go for that, too. Dancing barefoot in your living room sounds pretty good."

It sounded pretty serious, to him, and Jay was still shy of anything that intense. Although he'd done just that, saying 'next year', and he leaned in to kiss the top of her head. Luckily she didn't remark on that, just leaning into him more, and he held her as they both began to drift off. Round two had to wait until morning, that was all – she was just too worn out. Everything with the band was driving her half-crazy, he knew.

Jay was just thinking smugly of how to bring this up around Dick, and show off how much better a night of waltzing was than a bat she couldn't actually take home, when his shoulder twinged in warning. He grumbled, and shifted to get more comfortable, by necessity shifting Kala as well.

She was fully asleep, or so it seemed, clinging closer as he adjusted her. And then she mumbled something, not the unintelligible sounds of sleep-talk, but words that still somehow seemed pulled from a dream. "I love you," softly whispered against his shoulder, and Jay didn't think she even knew she'd said it. In the next moment, her breathing was slow and even, and she nuzzled sleepily against him.

And on the edge of slumber, when all of his history couldn't quite catch up to warn him off, Jay could only think the same of her. _I love you, K,_ the words in his mind but never on his tongue. It was obvious, after so many months, after everything that had happened between them, and so natural that somehow those words he dreaded only soothed him to sleep.


	11. The Smallest of Targets

**Authors' Note: ** We apologize for the delay getting this posted - coauthor Lois was sick, and both of us spent a very busy weekend adding extra security to our house. We're back on track now!

* * *

"I don't _know_," Carl groaned, flopping down on his back. It was cooler up here on the roof at night, and the Gotham skyline was almost inspiring. "I mean, I like running around as a guy, it's cool and all, I definitely get more respect. But like, if this is who I'm meant to be, how come I'm not grossed out by the thought of being Caroline again?"

"I'm _so_ not the authority on this stuff," Julio laughed, trying to pay attention to the stupid test prep website. Trigonometry was gonna be his downfall, he just knew it.

"Yeah, but … if you could be a girl, would you?" Carl looked at him with mingled hope and embarrassment.

Julio sighed, closed his eyes, and tried to picture it. Not having to shave his face, that might be nice. Of course he'd have to shave his legs instead, and that was way more real estate to cover. Boobs, okay, who didn't like looking at boobs? But the rest of it … nah. He shook his head. "Nope. I'm a guy, I'm happy as a guy, and I wouldn't change it even if I could just by snapping my fingers."

"_That's_ it," Carl said, excitedly hopping back up to sit closer. "If it was like an easy change to make, just snap your fingers, call up the trans fairy godmother and ask for some shoes? I'd do it for a night just to see what it's really like. Being a guy, I mean."

Julio had his own similar concerns, which he was trying not to think too hard about. If Carl wanted to go back to being Caroline, that made his life easier, because Carl _was_ pretty cute, and really smart too. But if Carl was really Carl, then Julio had to confront some things he'd rather not deal with when he was already trying to keep a pack of teenagers out of trouble while Red Hood fed and housed them, and also get himself a GED and maybe a _job_ at some point. Making something of his life counted for more than making out with anybody.

But Carl, even when they all called him Carl, _was_ fun to hang out with.

"I wouldn't," Julio finally said. "I think it'd feel too awkward."

Carl sighed heavily. "See, that's normal, I think. And I'm not normal."

"The word's _cis_," Julio interrupted, protective. "Don't go thinking you're a freak."

Carl stuck his tongue out at that. "Anyway. But I'm not like, _desperate_ to be a guy. Maybe I'm not either? Although man, that'd _suck_. Straight people and gay people both give trans people shit, but even some of the trans people trash-talk the non-binary ones."

Julio rubbed his face, having learned an entire new vocabulary in the last months. Carl only talked to _him_ about this stuff, because the rest took it as a joke or got weirded out. "Look, Carl, maybe you're just fourteen and still figuring your shit out? Nobody ever said you have to have it all decided before you're old enough to drive. You can be a guy, or a girl, or neither, and see how that fits."

Carl rolled his eyes. "_Ugh_. You sound a dad on TV. 'It's just a phase.' _Please_ try not to be lame just because you're the oldest."

"There's nothing wrong with having phases, either!" Julio said. "When I was thirteen, I was super into this one anime. I mean like trying to learn Japanese and shit. That lasted about a year – but there's nothing _wrong_ with it. I changed as I grew up. Some people do, some people don't, but you know what? I met some really cool people online in the fan forums for the show. Some of them helped me understand that my parents fighting all the time and trying to make me take sides wasn't cool. Who knows how messed up I'd be if I hadn't found the guts to get out."

"Yeah, you're pretty messed up as it is," Carl said teasingly.

Julio mimed a punch at him. He could've fired a comeback, but Carl got real tense anytime they talked about families, so he just took it with a shrug. "Whatever. Point is, you don't have to choose right now who you're gonna be forever. Nobody here cares whether you're Carl or Caroline." He saw the younger boy's face fall at that, and grabbed his hand. "_Hey_. Nobody cares because you're our friend either way, all right? I didn't mean it like we don't care about you."

Carl ducked his head, and looked up shyly through his hair. "I kinda hoped there was one person here who cared whether I'm a guy or a girl," he admitted softly.

Aw, shit, this was _not_ the time for this. "Dude, you're _fourteen_," Julio said. "That's jailbait territory."

"Not unless it's someone over nineteen," Carl shot back, and immediately started blushing.

"You looked it up?!" Julio said, and even Carl's ears turned red.

Any reply Carl might've made got cut off, as on the street below them the front door _banged_ open. "What the shit?" Carl yelped.

Julio leapt to his feet, spilling the laptop to the asphalt roof underfoot, just in time to hear the unmistakable rattle of gunfire from inside the house. He and Carl stared at each other, both thinking the same things; their _friends_ were inside, the next roof was too far for them to jump anyway. "Shit," Julio swore, and they both charged to the door, grabbing up their improvised weapons on the way.

…

Babs was monitoring many things, but the alarm that went off when a certain door in the Bowery was forced open quickly got all of her attention. Jay might've had independent alarms on the kids' safehouse; so might Selina. Babs didn't waste any time wondering, though, and sent an alert to Jay's comm, and Dinah's. Selina didn't carry one, so Babs sent her a text. Those three were the closest, and the ones who'd met the kids … but there was one more person who had met them, and for whom distance didn't matter too much.

At the same time, she pulled up her camera feeds to see what was happening. Babs swore under her breath; none of what she saw was good. She started speaking over the comms, getting the information out. "Looks like Two-Face's men. I've got four vans in front of the safehouse, ten men inside, three are covering the door…"

…

Everything had been _fine_ for Jay, other than a little freakout the other morning when he woke up and realized he'd almost said the l-word to K. It had been right on the edge of sleep, they were both post-coital, and she probably hadn't meant to say it to him first. Right, he could just ignore the whole thing and move on, and he'd gotten his mind under control by the time she woke. She'd thought it was weird that he was awake first, and by the look in her eyes she didn't remember saying it, either. It was okay, they were still themselves, and they hadn't jinxed anything. He could breathe, Kala was still snarky and affectionate, and he could tell himself the way he curled around her was just because she was warm. It _was_ cold in Gotham. Not like he was holding on to her for any other reason. Nothing serious that would require him to reevaluate his whole outlook on life and relationships. Of course not.

And now this, an alarm in the early evening followed by Babs on his comm, and the worst had happened, something that drove all his worries about Kala out of his head. Jay hauled ass, a constant drone of fear in the back of his head. Exactly what he'd been terrified about, ever since he first started giving a crap about these kids, had come true. Just like always, the Todd shitty luck had come back to kick him in the face again. As soon as he cared about something, it got blown up. The bad guys were rounding up the kids, and Jay couldn't help thinking it was his fault somehow. He'd been careful about being seen near the place, Selina and Dinah had too, but Dent had to have figured out _something_ to make him strike.

Babs had said _shots fired_ and his gut roiled. If any of them were hurt … Dent's boys would be going out in body bags, and fuck the rules, fuck the Bat. If he couldn't save those kids, he could damn sure avenge them, at least.

Shit, he should've taken Bruce up on the offer to relocate them. _Fuck!_ It was all his fault, trusting that things would be okay, the kids could look after themselves. Trying to do what he would've wanted as a kid, and wasn't that a joke, he'd been damn near dead before he was old enough to vote.

He cleared the fifteen-foot gap between one roof and the next, and saw Selina drop down from the next building. "On site," he barked into his comm, racing for the access door, and Selina met him there.

"Careful, I've got no intel on the inside," Babs said sharply, but Jay snatched at the door, only thinking that one of the kids might be hurt. Might be bleeding. Might be _dead_ already, and it was _his fault_.

Locked, of course it was locked, and he cursed, reaching for his lockpicks. Selina grabbed his arm and jerked him to the side; Jay was about to snarl at her, when three shots slammed through the wood door. "Look," she hissed, and he saw the laptop and Julio's notebook, carelessly scattered across the roof. "They were up here. Harvey's boys know about the roof door. They're waiting on us."

"Fuck 'em, we'll find another way," Jay snarled, chucking a can of knockout gas at the perforated door. It might drift in to get the gunman on the stairs, but even if it didn't, it'd keep the guy from coming out while they went to the parapet and fixed their lines. He and Selina went over the side and through a window in the middle floor, the shattering glass loud. Not subtle at all, but he wasn't in the mood for subtle.

The room they came in was empty, but their entrance was drawing attention – and on street level outside, he heard shouts and gunfire. "Canary's keeping them distracted at the front," Babs said in his ear.

Bad guys somewhere above, heavy footsteps rattling the ceiling, and more below trying to hold Canary off. That meant he and Selina were the meat in a sandwich, and he didn't want to get his ass chewed off today. Had to make a move, fast, _fast_. Damn, he wished Kala was here, but this was the middle of the day, she was probably on a tour bus, couldn't get away. _Fuck_.

No clue where the kids were. If it'd been Jay, he'd hold hostages on the lowest level, closest to the vans. So he headed down, full-frontal assault, charging the hall and headed for the sound of shots. Dent's men upstairs were coming down, trying to catch him and Selina, but they were about to find out they'd caught a helluva lot more than they could handle. Jay bulldozed the first two before they could even aim their guns, and heard Selina's whip crack as she dealt with another.

Too many men, and where were the kids? They hadn't had time to move them to the vans yet. Somewhere above Jay heard a scream of pain and surprise, and turned toward it, wishing the rubber bullets in his gun were lead. He was still doing damage, but if he hadn't been keeping to the code, he could've stopped these bastards for good…

They'd been headed down, and now they had men on the stairs above them. Too late to reverse, it was better to get Dinah in and cut off one side of the assault aimed at them. He'd rather be running up the stairs toward the kids, but that would be damn near suicidal. Attacking a higher-ground, better-armed position, that was stupid. And still part of Jay's mind nagged at him.

Instead he and Selina barreled into two men headed _up_ the stairs, and proved why the high ground was always a good advantage. They basically steamrolled the goons, Jay not even bothering with his gun, momentum and mass driving a flying elbow to the face that sent the first man crashing backwards down the stairs. Selina beside him used a leaping kick, her boots landing solidly in the thug's chest, and she had to grab the banister to keep from riding the poor bastard down to the floor below.

No time for zip ties, Jay just kicked their weapons clattering down the next flight of steps, bulldozing his way down. The men on the door were now caught in the middle, and Selina's whip flashed out, stinging the hand of the first to raise his gun. A fight like this was second nature to Jay, and he took the next one out with two rubber bullets to the chest, a hard enough impact that the man would at first believe he'd _really_ been shot. They hurt like a bitch, too. Jay moved past him, at the door now, closing in with some fool who tried to pull a knife in consideration of the close quarters. Jay broke his wrist, head-butted him with the helmet on, and punched him in the gut to steal his breath and make him seriously reconsider getting up.

All of that was just training, Jay's conscious mind barely even aware of the process of assessing threats and choosing targets. The only thought in his head was a vast, chilly gray fog of fear for the kids. If he had to look at Carl's face masked with blood, if he had to hold pressure on a sucking chest wound for Julio, if he had to feel for Lenny's pulse and not find it … something in him would break. These kids wouldn't be here right now if not for Jay. He should've gone solo undercover, he should've bummed around with adults to get his info, he shouldn't have let sentiment and his own history lead him to fall in with a pack of kids. Now all of them were risking their lives, and worse, they _admired_ him, they looked to him for answers, and all he'd done was put them in the firing line.

The men downstairs fell, and Dinah was inside putting a finishing kick to one who looked too lively. Her eyes blazed, her jaw set, and she met Jay's gaze with a steady implacable fury that only Babs could stand up to. "Let's tag these shitheads so they can't back-shoot us while we're getting their friends."

"Done," Jay said, whipping out his zip-ties. All three of them carried those, and in seconds the men were restrained.

Now, of course, they faced the problem upstairs. Jay squared himself, took a deep breath, and prayed to a god he no longer believed in that the kids were okay. He didn't mind getting shot himself, just please no innocent blood on the floor. Not today. With Selina on one side and Dinah on the other, he turned back to the fight.

There were two men on the stairs, coming down, who'd hesitated when the sounds of battle slowed. Jay peaked around the corner of the hall and promptly got shot at. "They're dug in," he growled, ignoring the plaster chunks flying from shots into the wall. The two had taken the time to get themselves in a good position, hoping to protect their buddies above.

Babs spoke over the comm. "GCPD is on the way. Dent's men don't have any backup coming. I'm watching the perimeter and the roof."

"So let's root them out," Dinah replied, and tossed a hissing canister of gas around the corner. Jay grinned fiercely as the men started coughing. The smoke that billowed out was thick and eye-watering, but not as strong as tear gas.

His helmet was protection enough, and while the men were disoriented Jay tore into them. Selina's mask shielded her eyes, but Dinah didn't wear one – she had nasal filters, though, and guts enough to brazen through the smoke. One of the men recovered a little too quickly, bringing his gun to bear, and Jay thought of the kids upstairs, forcing the man's arm downward so his shot went into the floor. Then he sucker-punched the prick, catching an assist from Dinah's elbow to the guy's temple. They got those two tagged, and headed up.

Someone on the top floor yelled a name, and the only answer was boots on the stairs. This was bad, worse than bad, charging _up_ into gunfire, and Jay heard scrambling footsteps as the men tried to get in position. Shooting down the stairwell they'd all be exposed, he figured he had the most body armor and tried to get himself in front. Just had to make it up three flights…

A scream up above, one of the kids yelling, "Watch out!" and then a sharp smack like someone had hit one of them. Jay saw red, taking the stairs three at a time, ignoring the burn in his muscles. Bastards, he'd kill every fucking one of them for hurting his crew, even if he got shot he could take out two or three before he dropped.

One man reached the top of the stairwell, leaned over, and took aim. Jay fired up at him, running too fast to aim well, but he had to put his shots through the stairwell space, still not knowing where the kids were. A lucky shot peeled wood from the banister, and the gunman got spooked, pulling back for a few seconds.

Those seconds were all Jay needed. He, Selina, and Dinah came out into the big open room on the top floor, to see the kids herded to one side – _okay, they were all okay, looking scared but no blood, thank you God I promise I'll start believing in you again_ – with three guys holding guns on them. The first guy and two more were already aiming at Jay's group, and all of three of them took evasive action. Selina somersaulted right, Dinah flipped right, and Jay trusted to body armor, throwing himself to one side and bringing his gun up. Once more he wished for lead in the chamber…

Before he could fire, the roof caved in with a thunderous roar.

Concrete and plaster dust choked the air, but Jay's helmet kept the worst of it out. He flattened himself against the wall, dodging around to get to the kids, snapping over the comm, "What the fuck was that?"

His answer was a bellow full of rage, the voice that could project to the back of an amphitheater roaring out, "_You __**dare**__ … !_"

And, out of nowhere, K was here and at DEFCON-5. Just in case he wasn't following the action, Selina called out mockingly, "_That_ the fuck is a pissed-off Blur. Looks like your girl's here for a Hail-Mary, Mr. Hood. You've always been a brave man."

The dust was clearing, and all the men in the room were coughing in surprise, while Kala stood in the midst of them with that haughty posture that usually came with her outrage… with those eyes glowing red in fury. "Pilot lights," Jay warned, and lunged for the nearest man.

The kids were okay, that was the main thing, and seeing them all on their feet, scared but not hurt, changed Jay's approach. He'd _intended_ to come in shooting, but with the kids safe, he could be more careful. He didn't want any stray bullets headed their way.

And he _did_ want information from these men. How they'd found this place, what the fuck they thought they were doing, all kinds of questions he hadn't yet thought to ask. So needed them conscious and not concussed.

Kala fell into the fight without any of the same concerns, but at least she'd turned off the heat vision. The first man she targeted just gave a yelp that turned into a squeak, and Jay saw the guy hit the floor on his belly, already trussed up. She was _really_ working the speed, and if she wasn't careful, she'd snap someone's neck. "_Blur!_" he called. "On me! Cool it down, I want 'em awake when we're done!"

She growled something under her breath in frustration, but came to his side, and slowed her fighting tempo to something he and the rest could keep up with. Jay heard Selina's whip crack and a nose crunched by Dinah's fist, men gasping in shocked pain, and smiled bitterly. Selina and Dinah took this personally, too. He waded into the group of men, who were still off-balance and demoralized by Kala's dramatic entrance.

It was the most one-sided fight he'd been in for a while. These thugs had some training, but they were facing four very angry people who had more – and one of them had powers. Kala took Jay's off-flank, snatching bullets from the air when one of the men got panicked enough to start shooting with his buddies in the line of fire, Dinah and Selina bore in on the shooters, and they had the room secure in a couple minutes.

Selina's diamond-tipped claws slashed the last man's arm, making him drop his gun, and she kicked it aside before kicking him in the gut to bring him down. Taking out a couple of zip ties, she looked over at Kala and Jay and said archly, "Remind me never to piss _you_ off, Blur."

"Just don't threaten anyone I care about, and we're good," Kala replied in dangerous tones. Only then did she look at the kids – and saw them all still staring at her. Julio looked shell-shocked, Carl's eyes were huge, but no one seemed to be bleeding. They were clustered together, Julio out in front, and when she moved toward them, all of them flinched.

Kala froze, and Jay barked a laugh. "I told you guys who we were and what we did," he reminded them. "Don't go getting spooky now, you'll hurt her feelings."

From the look on her face, he had just hit a little close to home. "Shut it, Red," Kala snapped, clearly a little hurt, but he'd dissolved the tension. At her reaction, the kids seemed to relax, remembering that they were all still the same people as before. That Blur was the same as she had been when she was talking hair-dye with Carl not so long ago. Only difference was, now they just had firsthand evidence to _prove_ that everyone was as badass as they said they were.

"We're okay," Julio said, his voice a little shaky, but it quickly firmed up. "There might still be guys downstairs, though."

"Downstairs is clear," Dinah said. "Are you sure you're all okay?"

Julio glanced at the other kids, and nodded. Jay cast a more practiced eye over them; Carl was right behind Julio, the rest trying to crowd into his shadow. None of them stood like they'd been hurt – they just looked scared half out of their heads, by the shock as much as the actual kidnapping attempt.

Selina saw their fear, too, and teased Kala lightly, "Next time we work together, you have to save some for the rest of us, okay?"

Kala gave a weak smile. "You got everything downstairs – I just took out a handful of them. And the roof."

"That still only counts as one," Dinah interjected, and when they all looked at her, she just grinned back, doing her part to defuse the tension just as Selina had. "C'mon, Lord of the Rings? It's a great line!"

Kala snorted at that, some of the woeful expression leaving her eyes. Jay relaxed a little, and then she turned right around to say, "I was almost too late to be of any use."

"You're always useful. Don't kick yourself, Blur, Gotham'll do that for ya. And I know it's hard for you to get away," Jay said, shrugging. He turned to Selina then, adding, "Don't count on it, Catwoman. Not if there are kids involved. You know who her mom is. Looks like the mama bear gene breeds true."

That prompted a general look of interest from the kids, turning from her to him. "Holy shit, who's her mom?" Lenny muttered.

It was enough to get a snort of amusement from Kala, who glanced back at the other two women. "Not a cape, but they're all scared of her," Jay laughed.

The jocularity came to an end when Babs spoke in their comms. "Someone said a _missile_ hit the roof? Hood, did you bring heavy ordnance?"

"Something like that," Kala said, looking chagrined. "I _did_ say incoming…"

"Heavy ordnance brought herself," Jay said, as Babs muttered that it was particularly apt this time. He caught Kala's shoulder for a moment, locking gazes with her. "You did fine, Blur. Don't worry about it. We're all good, they're all good, the bad guys are all alive. That's a win anywhere, and it's damn near a miracle in Gotham."

By then the kids had broken out of their fearful little cluster, and Carl climbed on top of a chunk of the roof, staring up at the sky through a new hole. "How the fuck did you _do_ that?" he said wonderingly.

_Be going about twice the speed of sound when she hit it,_ Jay thought. But all Kala said aloud, with a nonchalant shrug, was, "This guy made me some really fancy boots…"

"Trust a girl to make it about the shoes," Jay scoffed, and Kala swatted his arm again.

"We've got to move," Dinah said, and all the kids turned to her with surprise. All of them were _really_ seeing her in uniform for the first time, and realizing that Dinah who brought them pizza also happened to be Black Canary. Jay heard Oracle in his ear then, confirming that the police were on their way. Dinah just said patiently, "Guys, there's a big hole in the roof, and all that shooting got the cops' attention. These guys need to go to jail, too. We have to get you out of here."

Jay cursed, leading them up the broken concrete to the roof. "Look, B said he had options. I wasn't gonna take him up on it, but maybe we have to."

"Who the hell is B?" Lenny said, sounding half hysterical. He'd always been the most easily spooked of the group.

"Batman," Jay said. All of the kids blinked, looking surprised. Jay supposed this _was _a lot to dump on them all at once. Hell, only in the last fifteen years or so had people learned that Batman was more than just an urban legend. "I know, I know. I didn't tell him about you guys, but he's fuckin' Batman. He finds stuff out. He's being remarkably hands-off and cool about it, for him."

And it triggered exactly the response Jay had been expecting. "I'm not goin' to foster care again," Julio said staunchly, echoed by the rest.

It was Kala that spoke up then, shaking her head. "No, you're not. Any of you. That was never part of the plan." They'd had a few conversations about this; they both had known that there would have to be another solution. They just didn't know it would have to be implemented this soon.

"Let's get them out of here first, then we can decide where to go," Selina said. "Over the roofs is fastest."

"That's like twenty feet!" Carl squeaked, eyes going wide.

"Fifteen, maybe, and we'll catch you," Jay said. He thought he could hear sirens already. Which reminded him, he had business to take care of that wasn't babysitting.

Dinah eyed the gap, then turned to Jay. "You and me, first. Blur, can you jump them across, and then we'll go over a few buildings and down?"

"Not a problem," Kala said, although she glanced back at Jay. The kids knew she had powers at this point, but other than that with the ceiling, she'd never really shown them off. "If you're sure."

Jay shrugged. "Might as well."

"Hold up," Julio cut in. "I didn't sign up for this!"

"It'll be fine," Jay said, catching his eyes. "You didn't sign up to get hauled off by Two-Face, either. Speaking of which, I need a few minutes alone with those guys before GCPD gets here."

He could see Kala give him a measured glance at that, but she stayed silent. "Fine, we've got the kids," Dinah said. "C'mon, you guys, it could be worse. We could just zip-line it. Blur's a meta, she won't drop you."

Julio looked at Kala dubiously, and she sighed, glancing skyward. "Fine, I'll give you guys proof, if it makes you feel better." Jay didn't know what she had planned until she caught him around the waist and picked him up off the ground. He yelped, of course, and Selina snickered at him. "I told you guys, I'm a lot more than just _fast_," Kala explained patiently. "C'mon, we gotta hurry."

"Put me the fuck down right now," Jay snapped.

She did, not quite hiding her smile, and Julio laughed. "And you're dating her."

Jay bared his teeth – which none of them could see, he'd worn the helmet for this, but it was just habit. "Yeah, I am. I have a thing for women who can shot-put me into orbit. Just get it done, okay? I'll catch you up." And with that, he headed back inside.

Dent's goons were pretty much helpless at this point, and there were no witnesses. Just the way he liked it. All the old impulses were still there, whispering up from the back of his brain. _Kill them all, they're scum that breathes, no, worse than scum, they're vermin. Parasites. Put them down, clean this place up __**your**__ way, you know the only way to get rid of Gotham's filth is to wash the city in blood. Kala won't hate you for it._

_She might even help._

That was the Pit talking, the urge to soak his hands in blood all the way up to his elbows and call it a good start. He had a number of ways of holding that darkness down, but today the simplest one was on the roof fretting because she'd spooked the kids by rolling out with a small fraction of her true power. Yeah, Kala might help him, but he couldn't let her get this filthy. Most stains slipped right off her, the way well-oiled steel didn't rust, but blood … blood was hard to wash out.

No killing. Not today. But _they_ didn't have to know that. Jay strolled over slowly, taking out his kris. "Aw, come on," one of the men whined. "We weren't gonna hurt 'em!"

"See, the difference between me and every other dirtbag in this town is, I take care of my crews," Jay said. "You remember what happened to the assholes who tried to send me a message by kidnapping one of the dealers I protected, back in the day? Man, that ruined pork barbecue for some people. Not me, I had carnitas that night. Cops are on their way, maybe I should get fire rescue down here, too."

All of them in the room started struggling, testing their bonds, but every cape in Gotham knew how to put on zip-ties so that no one could escape. At least, no one who wasn't double-jointed or had super-strength. Jay picked the guy who'd talked, and went to one knee beside him, letting the light play over the knife. "Or maybe I should just send a message to Dent. There's enough of you, I could carve one word per face, make him puzzle it out. Hmm, 'keep off my turf' is too short. 'Keep off my turf or I'll have your balls for a paperweight' is too damn long. What do you think? Maybe just 'fuck off' on each one?"

The guy was glancing between the knife and Jay's impassive helmet. "You're a Bat now. Bats don't do that shit."

"I'm not a Bat," Jay said, letting his smile show in his tone. "No symbol on my shirt, boys. I do what needs to be done, and these kids were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but they did me a favor anyway. So anyone who looks sideways at 'em, I gotta make a point, here. Y'know?"

"Batman wouldn't like it," one of the others said, sneering.

Jay just chuckled. "The Bat isn't here right now. Boo hoo, I carve up some lowlifes and get left off his Christmas list, such a fuckin' tragedy. He won't do shit as long as you live – and I can make sure you live. A lot longer than you'd like to."

"What do you _want_?" the guy beside him asked hoarsely, still fixated on the knife.

Jay drove it into the floorboards half an inch from his nose. "I wanna know why you're here, how you even found out about these kids, and what you were gonna do with them. And I want to know in the next three minutes before GCPD gets here to stop the fun, because then I hafta take you with me, and things could get _messy_."

His eyes frantic, the man started babbling.

…

On the roof, the kids were still cringing away from the edge. They were running out of time; no more time to argue about it. Making up her mind, Kala looked at Julio, the oldest and biggest, and figured he could be mad at her later.

At her speed, he didn't even know what was happening until they were both standing on the other roof. "Ay cabrón!" he exclaimed.

Yep, exactly what she'd expected, not that she could blame him. "Sé valiente," Kala admonished with a laugh, and darted back across.

She grabbed Carl next, even as Dinah was leaping the gap to keep an eye on Julio, and Carl managed not to scream, holding on as tight as he could, though his eyes were huge. She got all seven of them over as sirens sounded in the distance, and was quick enough about it that only Lenny managed to really freak out, wrapping both arms around her neck and closing his eyes. "Don't drop me, I'm afraid of heights, just don't drop me," he whimpered as she moved to jump.

Three seconds later, touching down on the opposite roof, Kala patted the back of his head. Poor kid; she couldn't even fathom being that scared of a distance that small, anymore. "It's already over, Lenny, it's okay."

Just glancing over, it was obviously someone else wasn't quite thrilled with her at the moment. Julio glowered at her, more than a little disgruntled about things. "That was _not_ cool, dude."

Kala sighed, still holding Lenny like a spider monkey; she had known this was coming. Julio, like her brother, was all about control. But if Julio went, the others would be less afraid to follow. There hadn't been another choice. "I'm sorry, but we had to get out of there. I promise not to do it again unless I have to, all right? Swear."

Selina leaped across, laughing. "Complain later, let's move. We're a big obvious target up here."

Dinah led the way, and Kala put Lenny down gently. She fell back to rearguard, not her normal position in maneuvers, but it worked today. The cops would likely come up behind them. She also had to listen for her band; they'd just been checking into the hotel when Babs put out the call, and Kala had been frantic to get into the room and out of sight. She even considered making a run for the lobby bathroom, but it was too late. Her hands were full, the elevator was open, Derek and the boys were looking right at her. Even as she'd strained her hearing toward Gotham, Babs had whispered over the line that Jay, Selina, and Dinah were on it, only minutes away, she wasn't required – the call was informational.

Still, Kala had hustled to her room, locked the door, and put her comm in for an update. Once Babs told her it was the _kids_, she changed into her uniform so fast that her clothes ended up flung all over the room, and Kala flew across the country at record speed, unaware that she'd actually split the line of a storm over Nebraska and seriously confused some meteorologists. Twenty-five hundred miles in about six minutes, she was too fast to even show up on most radar. Not only was this the kids, she couldn't stand the thought of them in danger, this was _Jay_. Whose heart was racing, she could hear it in California, and if one of them got hurt, someone had to be there to grab Jay by the scruff and stop him from burning down everything he'd built since he'd come back to Gotham.

Someone had to remind him to at least wait for a chance with no witnesses.

It had all worked out, and Jay was still back there, getting information. She tuned in to hear one of the bad guys talking frantically, and couldn't hold back a cold grin. Trust her Hood to get what he wanted quickly, and without much bloodshed. Actually slicing and dicing the guys would take longer than scaring the living hell out of them. She needed to keep an ear out for him, knowing how furious he got when the kids were threatened. He cared about all of them, no matter how he tried to deny it. Saving them was trying to save himself from long ago; Jay would've been one of them, if he'd been their age. He was trying to save them from the same pitfalls he'd tripped right into.

So Kala split her attention three ways: her immediate surroundings, Jay and the goons, and her hotel room, in case one of the boys knocked.

At least the buildings here abutted each other, so there was no gap to leap – but to get to the third roof, they had to drop down eight feet. Dinah went first, tucking and rolling, and Selina followed her, sticking the landing. "Let's go," Dinah called up to the kids. "Jump and we'll catch you, or let Blur carry you down."

Julio glanced over his shoulder at Kala, swore, and jumped. That brought a round of amused snorts, despite the seriousness of the situation. Dinah and Selina both helped break his fall, then Carl jumped down. All of them made the jump in short order, Kala bringing up the rear and holding onto Lenny. "This one's abandoned, we can go down the stairs," Dinah said, turning toward the roof door. It was secured with a large padlock and chain.

Which, even as Selina moved forward to deal with it, Carl had trotted up and picked the lock. Dinah gave a short laugh at that. "Nice. I couldn't have done it that quick. But then, I didn't have Catwoman giving me pointers."

Carl looked embarrassed for a moment, but Selina ruffled his hair. "I didn't have to tutor him. Lock picking is a useful skill in the East End, Canary."

"I don't do it unless I have to," Carl said, shuffling his feet.

"Me, I do it for fun. But that was smooth," Selina reassured him as the rest headed through the door and down, Kala and Dinah taking point. "Nothing to be ashamed of, either. You heard Canary say she couldn't do it as fast – she's got rogue skills too."

"As many times as I've had to get out of handcuffs since I started working for Oracle, I'd damn well better," Dinah called back over her shoulder.

"I don't wanna know about your love life," Selina shot back, and Dinah rolled her eyes as the kids all snickered.

"You're the expert in that field, I'm too vanilla," Dinah replied easily. "Blur, did you ever learn to pick locks?"

"No, I keep putting it off," Kala admitted with a grin. They both knew her heat vision would take care of most locks.

"Dude, she just kicked in a roof, she doesn't need lock picks," Julio scoffed, causing another round of chuckles.

At least the kids were taking this well. Their lives had been turned upside-down, again, they'd been in real danger with guns aimed at them, their benefactors turned out to be somewhat scary vigilantes. Despite that, they were following directions and cracking jokes. It might just turn out okay.

As they all filed down, Dinah said to Kala, "Some fancy moves back there, Blur. You and Hood really do work well together."

"We'd better, he trained me," she said, and speaking of him, Kala focused her hearing to tune in on him, discovering he was currently leaving the kids' building. She tapped her comm, and said, "Oracle, how far away is GCPD? And Hood, you need evac?"

"Two minutes, and Hood's clear," Babs replied.

"Keep going, Blur, I'll meet up with you," Jay said, much to her relief. He had kept his control and she had the feeling that Harvey Dent was going to regret this today in the very near future.

"Where _are_ we going?" Carl asked.

"And when are we gonna get our stuff?" Lenny added.

"I'll get your things later," Selina said. "It's all gonna end up in a GCPD evidence locker. But we need shelter for the night, at least. Hey, Hood owns his whole building, right?"

Kala winced. His need for space wouldn't allow that, and he'd have histrionics anyway. "No way he can manage that. Hood knows full well that building's a target for anyone who wants him dead, and he's got plenty of enemies. He'd have conniptions putting civilians there."

"Oracle, you got any ideas?" Dinah said.

Her voice over the comm was amused despite the digitizer. "Secure housing for seven kids, in a building not currently occupied, located within walking distance of your current location, and preferably with power and water, plus someplace I can keep a close eye on them? Ask me something difficult, Songbird. I'm already on it."

"Well excuse me for being polite," Dinah laughed. "Someone's letting that 'god-tier hacker' remark go to her head."

"Considering the source, I take pride in it," Babs said, reading off an address only a few blocks away. It would do for tonight; Dinah repeated it aloud for Selina and the kids.

They'd gotten to the first floor, and Selina peeked out. As the sun went down, there were few people on the street; those with honest jobs were either working, or already home. The dealers and gang members and pimps weren't out yet. Three vigilantes and seven kids headed out, moving briskly, still hearing the sirens as the police rolled up to their former flophouse. Kala listened in, hoping Jay had extricated himself before the cops arrived. Most of the police force was content to let the Bats work, but Red Hood wasn't quite a Bat in their eyes. He'd spilled too much blood on his first run through town.

He had left that building and was closing in on their position, so she turned her attention back to the street. Selina had sidled up to the door of the address Babs had given them. It looked like an office, though long shuttered, the windows covered in plywood. Dinah glanced at the front and shrugged. "Well, it's not the Ritz."

Selina had picked the lock in seconds, and opened the door on a surprising puff of warm air. "Hey, the heat's still on," she said, pleasantly surprised.

"If it's got heat, it might as well be the Ritz, for us," Julio said. "I slept under a bridge once."

"I slept in the back of a pickup," Carl piped up, as all the kids filed in. Kala waited by the door, watching for Jay, and heard the rest listing off the weirdest places _they'd_ slept.

Jay jogged up to her, grinning. There wasn't even any blood on his gloves this time, which spoke to a great deal of restraint. "Turns out fuckin' Dent didn't know they were mine. Dumbass. He just wanted the building, and he needs recruits now that a bunch of his people are in prison. Course, since I didn't kill those guys, now they know the kids are with us."

"Well, that settles that. We've got to move them again, first chance we get. This is only good for tonight," Kala said worriedly, and closed and locked the door behind him.

The main lobby area was dusty, but there was a dividing wall and hallway that lead off to a series of offices, enough of them to give each kid privacy. Best of all, Kala didn't smell mold or rats – the place was clean and warm.

Dinah was shrugging. "Not the worst accommodations. Weirdest place _I_ ever slept was locked up in a cellar. Or a jail cell. Oracle's put me in some hairy situations."

Knowing some of the tales the Birds had told her during training, Kala remembered that she certainly had. Her stories weren't nearly as suspenseful, but it helped distract the kids. Kala decided to chip in with, "I slept in the hot tub at this one hotel, back in the day. Literally all night. We got a free upgrade, and I decided to take advantage. None of my friends bothered to wake me up." By 'friends' she meant the band, who'd gotten a tongue-lashing for letting her get all pruney by soaking overnight, but she wasn't going to let any hints about her day job slip in front of the civilians.

Selina examined her claws, and grinned. "I've slept in the actual Hôtel Ritz, in Paris. The Suite Impériale, to be precise. Gold faucets and light switches, ceilings eighteen feet high, one of those fancy beds with the half-canopy, the works."

Kala paused only a second before laughing out loud, shaking her head. "Somehow I'm not a bit surprised."

"And that's weird?" Dinah asked. "Sounds like a damn good deal to me."

"Considering I spent the night before sleeping in my car, yeah," Selina laughed. "Serious mental whiplash."

Jay just scoffed at them all. Kala prepared herself for a tale that would put all of theirs to shame, but got the opposite of what she had assumed. "I slept on a bunch of roofs in this town. And I think I've been in that suite, too, Catwoman. Gold faucets, right? Shaped like swans?"

Selina laughed. "Yes! I don't even wanna _know_ how you ended up there."

The Ritz. In Paris. Why was she suddenly not surprised at all? Kala rolled her eyes and hissed at Jay; _she _knew how he'd ended up there. And didn't want to think about that too long. "You weren't paying for the room, I know that." Raising her eyebrows, she shot him a queenly glare.

"To be fair, neither was I," Selina pointed out. "I made that one a two-for. I got paid to be there, kept the room as a perk, and used it to back up my story posing as a jewel-buyer the next day." She gave them a little wink at that.

"Sounds about right," Kala laughed.

"Yeah, well, the weirdest place _I_ ever slept was in these guys' flophouse, pretending to be Tommy," Jay said with a shrug. "And even that was a lot more comfortable than the suite in Paris. I'd count the Ritz, except I was so freaked out thinking I'd break something, I never actually fell asleep."

Julio had quickly checked out the rooms, and found them satisfactory. "Okay, so, somebody bring us up to speed? _Who_ knows we work for you now?"

"Two-Face," Jay replied, and Kala saw how he changed gears to treat the boy the same way he would've treated her, or Dick, or anyone else he had to talk logistics with. He spoke to the kids as equals, and she knew they had to appreciate that. "Which is not good. Part of the reason I picked your group to throw in with was 'cause you're not involved with all the gang bullshit. The minute you get marked as being someone's crew, you've got a target on your back for everyone else. Especially now, with Joker in the hospital and Black Mask in jail. Everyone else is trying to carve up this town."

Julio snorted. "I don't get that, man. Every time one of 'em goes to Arkham or Blackgate, all the others scramble to grab up what they can. It never lasts more than a year before someone gets out, someone else gets put away, or someone new shows up, and shakes the whole mess up again. Why do they even _bother_?"

"Money, power, and territory," Selina said, hopping up on a desk.

"Dude, they're fighting over the _Bowery_," Julio replied. "And Crown Point and the Narrows. The _slums_. It's not like they're trying to get Bristol!"

"This isn't Monopoly," Dinah said, as everyone else tried not to cough.

Selina smirked at Jay, and Kala didn't need any extra powers to read the thought that passed between them. _There's a reason it's not Bristol. That's where Batman __**lives**__._ Selina just said aloud, "Still, it's money, power, and territory. There's plenty of money in the East End, if you know where to look. It's just not classic cars and antique silver like in Bristol. All the pawn shops, the laundromats, the little diners – they make good money. You have any idea how much profit a laundromat clears? Most people in the Bowery can't afford a washer and dryer, and the apartments don't have hookups for them anyway."

"Okay," Julio said, but Selina cut him off.

"Time for a quick lesson in broke economics," she said, swinging her feet. "In terms of _making_ money, this is the richest place in town. It literally _costs money_ to be poor. You wanna wash clothes, and your building doesn't have machines in the basement? You go to the laundromat. You pay for the machines, you pay for detergent if you don't have your own, and worst of all, you have to sit there for an hour or two while your stuff gets done. That's time you can't spend working, or cleaning, or cooking, or maybe doing something you actually enjoy. You can't afford to buy furniture so you either scrounge, or you go to some rental place where you pay a little bit every week – and end up paying three times what anything should cost. Then you go grocery shopping, but you don't have a car, so you can only get what you can bring on the bus or in a cab. Or maybe on the back of a bike. So you're shopping every couple days, or you're just saying 'fuck it' and dining out for every meal. Then something breaks, or someone gets sick, or you need new clothes for a job interview, so you go to a pawnshop and get less than half what your stuff's worth, and you'll pay through the nose to get it back. Or you go to a payday loan place and they practically skin you with fees, but you can't go to a bank 'cause your credit's shot. Meanwhile, where does the money go? The money for your rent, the money from the pawn shops and the loan places and the laundromats and the diners and the rental stores, you know where it goes?"

Julio shook his head, his eyes wide, and all the other kids listened raptly. Kala herself stopped to listen, wanting to hear the rest. Selina showed her teeth in what was decidedly _not_ a smile. "Some rich bastard's pockets _up in Bristol_, most likely. Not back here, to people who need it. All those shops are either paying protection to the gangs, or they're straight-up run by them. You ever see a furniture store that never moves inventory? It's money laundering for the mob. They keep a fake record of sales and provide invoices for other companies that never deliver stock. The buildings are almost all owned by landlords on the good side of town, or by gangsters, and either way they only care about how much money they can make. To guys like Harv – Two-Face – you're just another sheep to be fleeced or milked or knocked in the head and served with mint sauce.

"But they're gonna take everything they can, and the rich side of town, people have investments and insurance and really good security systems. It's hard for the bad guys to get things done up there, they just don't have as much ready cash laying around. Down here? They can do business, and even if they do something like Black Mask this summer and kill off damn near half the homeless population, there's always gonna be more poor bastards to feed on. There's always some hard-luck story of comfortably middle class people losing it all in the stock market, or layoffs in some company that hit hard times. The CEO and the Board of Executives always cut themselves a big severance, and everyone else just gets a pat on the back and a kick in the ass."

Silence, all of them a little stunned by her vehemence, and Selina looked around. Dinah finally said, in careful tones, "Not that I disagree, but I wasn't expecting the 'eat the rich' speech from _you_, Catwoman."

"Yeah, well, one or two of 'em are okay," Selina admitted. "Also I'm richer than God right _now_, but that could change any day. Most of my assets aren't exactly legal, and I could lose it all to the IRS or the GCPD. Or any of the other alphabet agencies. I've been on both sides of it, you know? I've been flat broke, gotten evicted and had my stuff thrown in the street, stood in the line at the food bank, and watched people going to work look down their noses and mutter about lazy good-for-nothing street scum. And I've stacked up all the money coming in for the Calabrese family, too, poured a thousand-dollar bottle of wine and didn't even drink all of it. Difference is, I did something with the money when I got some. Like certain billionaires you and I both know, Canary."

Dinah smiled. "I was thinking a bit more about your taste for the finer things in life."

Selina rolled her eyes. "Every girl should get to wear a dress worth more than her first car once in a while, Canary."

"Okay, enough broke-nomics," Jay said, but he grinned at Selina. "The point is, the Bowery's where these assholes hunt, and now you're all targets. So we need to get you guys situated somewhere safe. Batman offered to set you up – he's got connections. That means real apartments this time. Probably also means you have to start cracking down on the schoolbooks, but hell. There's worse things."

"How long have you been out of school?" Carl said plaintively.

"Longer than it looks," Jay replied. "And I was a straight-A student while I was in. I guess the first real question is, do you guys have to stay together? Or would you be okay splitting into groups?"

Lenny shrugged. "Man, we're not related or anything. We can keep in touch over the internet. This's just the best place we had, 'cause of Julio. And now you. As long as I'm fed and have clothes to wear and can work on maybe getting set up with a job soon, I don't care."

Most of the rest had similarly casual attitudes, but Kala saw the way Julio looked at them. That one had all the marks of leadership; he took responsibility for these kids who'd all been thrown together by chance. At last, he turned to Carl. "You stay with me, no matter what," Julio said. And as Carl tried not to grin, he continued, "You're the littlest, someone's gotta look out for you."

"Oh _bullshit_ on that," Carl said, but he was blushing just a little.

Kala caught Jay's eye, smirking, and he looked away. Of course, what Julio said next _really_ got their attention. "Carl wants to go to Metropolis," he declared. "You got any friends over there wanna adopt some street rats?"

Jay coughed. "Yeah, um, I might know somebody in Metropolis. Blur, think you can wrangle a Super-invite from clone-boy?"

For half a second, she'd thought he was going to out her as a Kryptonian. Instead, Jay trolled her. It was only fair to return the favor. "You mean the guy Capespotting thinks I'm cheating on with you? Sure, I'll ask Superboy. We should be able to figure something out."

That made him laugh, and Dinah cut them an amused glance. "I know someone with nationwide connections. Think about what kinds of programs you want to be in – college, vocational school, that kind of thing – and we'll start making plans."

Carl, meanwhile, had fixed Kala with a shrewd stare. "How in the heck do you go from dating a Super to _this_ guy? I'd get whiplash!"

Kala could feel Jay watching her, waiting to see how she'd wriggle out of this one. "I was never really dating Superboy," she admitted. "He's a good friend, the tabloids went nuts, so I played it up for effect. And Hood's a pretty good guy – not to mention, have you heard me _admit_ to dating him? He's the one who keeps saying it." She looked over at Jay archly, smirking.

Selina laughed at the pair of them, while Jay just grinned. "Hey, Blur, you want 'em to learn forensics? They can start by matching the bite mark on my shoulder to your teeth."

Kala didn't know what counter-troll to expect, but it certainly wasn't _that_. She swatted at him, flushing in disbelief. "_Red!_ Knock it off!" Regardless of their background, these were still just _kids_, and didn't need to know specifics.

"You know that doesn't necessarily mean you're dating," Selina put in archly.

"Oh yeah?" Jay shot back, fending off Kala's repeated smacks on the arm. "So are you dating Batman, or just bangin' him?"

"He takes me on dates, so we're dating," Selina replied. "Are _you_ two dating? Or just beating up bad guys together and working off the tension afterward?"

"We've been on at least three official dates," Jay said proudly. "That didn't involve beating anyone up. So there."

Meanwhile Julio was frowning. "Not that I wanna be all in your business, but how the hell does _Batman_ go on a date?"

Dinah was the one who chuckled at him. "You guys forget, we have lives out of costume, too. It helps a relationship to know who's under the mask – I'd know. I spent a year talking to mine over a headset before I ever got a face-to-face."

"Yes, but Bats are paranoid," Selina said blithely. "If not for a really good line that outed us, he might not have ever let me in. Batman's always had trouble with that. All his kids are the same, pretty much."

Jay narrowed his eyes, and luckily Dinah stepped in. "All right, so Julio and Carl, we're looking at Metropolis. What about the rest of you? Lenny, what do you want to do?"

"You sound like a guidance counselor," Lenny complained.

"Well shit, we can pick something _for_ you," Jay said. "We're just trying to let you have some kind of choice in all this, since I rolled into your lives and fucked 'em all up."

"You didn't fuck up our lives, man," Julio said. "You know how much more stuff we can get to do when we're not spending every day just trying to find enough to eat? Nah, I'll take it, even if it does come with crazy shit like running across rooftops."

Kala saw the look in Jay's eyes despite the helmet, the warm quiet satisfaction it gave him to be looked up to, to be relied upon, and her heart swelled for him.

Of course, that was the moment that her hearing registered a knock on the opposite coast. She remembered to touch her ear, as if the news came in via comm instead of super-hearing. "Shit! Guys, I have to go. Something else just came up."

Jay nodded, and she looked at him apologetically. He just grinned. "Sure, sure, you come sweeping in to kick ass, and run away when people talk about relationships and shit. C'mon, Blur, that's the _guy's_ line."

"Guess that just means she wears the pants in your relationship," Selina quipped, smirking at them both.

Kala scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Boy, is it _ever_ the guy's line. Especially in this town. See you around – and yes, I'll remember to talk to Superboy. Hood, keep me updated!"

With that she was off, hearing Morgan knock a little louder and her phone buzzing inside the room as he texted her. Meanwhile behind her, Jay chuckled, "As if I'd miss an excuse to call."

Just a few more weeks, and she'd be on holiday break. Just a little more time until her 'real' life relaxed its stranglehold, and she could come to Gotham as much as she wanted. Hell, Jay probably didn't even know yet that Alfred had invited her for Christmas in the birthday card Bruce had signed, but Alfred had clearly purchased…


	12. With a Thousand Things to Say

Jay deserved some down time, and damned if he wasn't going to chill out and fucking take it already. He'd spent the last two days busting his ass to get seven teenage boys moved into safer housing in Gotham and Metropolis, and on the whole, he preferred being shot at. That was less stressful. At least last night he'd gotten in a 'normal' patrol, very low-key, the only real excitement being the carjacking he and K had stopped. Easy stuff to settle his mind so he could sleep, and now today he was finally free to do nothing serious.

Except reflect on the whole situation. After Kala left them the day Two-Face's men broke into the building, he and Selina and Dinah had gotten the kids settled down for the night. Having seen the 'heroes' banter amongst themselves was a little more personal than Jay usually let people get, but the kids had been through a major shock and upheaval. They'd also seen Kala pull some significant powers, so getting to see her as just a normal person like them did a lot for their peace of mind.

Not that the grownups got any peace of any kind for a while. There was work to be done, finding spaces for them all, and Jay had personally checked out each location. He'd also made it abundantly clear to Bruce that, although his assistance had been extremely helpful and was very much appreciated, if any of them got shunted into the foster care system _or_ a Robin suit, poor Doc Leslie would need to stand by to remove Jay's steel-toed motorcycle boot from Bruce's large colon. Bruce had agreed to those conditions without any colorful commentary.

With a few phone calls between Clark and Dick, Julio was sharing a legitimate studio apartment with Carl over in Metropolis. The other five were split into two groups, two of them near the Clock Tower under Dinah's watchful eye, and the other three just a few blocks from Selina. Bruce either owned those properties, or as was the case in Metropolis, had simply paid two year's lease in advance. All of the kids had their own smartphones now, fully paid for with unlimited data, and everybody had their own laptop too. The work they'd done hiding out was good enough for the younger kids to re-enroll in school, although Julio was old enough that he was just going to get his GED and be done with it.

The fact that those phones and computers had GPS trackers in them, and probably spyware running back to Babs, was something Jay decided he could live with. If the kids were out of his sight, he needed some way of knowing that they were safe, that no one was trying to recruit them, that they weren't getting in serious trouble.

All of them also had paperwork on file that made them legally Dinah's wards. She was the one whose public and private identities overlapped the most, so if there were any issues with the kids needing a guardian, she'd be the one contacted. When Babs had suggested that, Dinah had just shrugged. "Won't be the first PTA meeting I've gone to," she'd quipped.

Or the first doctor's visit, and one of the concerns Selina had broached was letting Julio and Carl leave Doc Leslie's sphere of influence. She'd only mentioned it _after_ they left the kids for the night, though, not wanting to embarrass them. "Carl needs to be on birth control," she'd said. "He's at a stage where he's asking a lot of questions about who he wants to be and what he wants to do, and I happen to know that teenagers tend to find their answers by trying on different identities. And trying out whatever sounds good."

"He's also got a crush on Julio you can see from space," Jay had added dryly. "So we need a free clinic in Metropolis that won't give him any crap. Maybe some kind of sensible counseling, too? It's gotta be hard to figure yourself out, if the factory equipment doesn't match the software."

"They all need counseling," Dinah said gently. "None of them were on the street because they wanted to be. Every one of them has some kind of trauma to work through. Unfortunately, Gotham street kids tend to think they can tough everything out, and they're very shy of seeing a shrink."

"Jesus, Canary, just call us _all_ out," Selina had laughed.

"I think she was mostly shanking the Bats with that one," Jay put in.

"Yeah, Bruce slept with his therapist, or so I heard. Whatever, I'm not throwing stones, I've got my own crap to deal with. The kids have each other, they've got us, and if anything gets serious, we'll bring in professionals," Dinah had said.

That they were able to wrap it all up in any kind of reasonable time just told Jay that it wouldn't have been _that_ hard for social services to do what they were doing. Those folks needed more time, more staff, more funding … and a decent way to sift through the bullshit calls and help people who could actually benefit. He wasn't trying to save the world, though, just keep his corner of it a little less bloodstained.

So with that business taken care of, for the moment, he had settled in to enjoy a quiet night of not challenging his brain at all. Dinner, TV, and just veg out, that was all he had in mind.

Of course, his phone rang, and he wasn't _entirely_ surprised by the number that was trying to reach him. Honestly, he'd been expecting this since that little stunt in Denver; sometimes it took a while for the gossip to percolate, but it always got there in the end. He answered the call just by saying, "Jay here."

"What exactly do you think you're doing?" Donna Troy asked.

"Right now, nuking some mac and cheese for dinner," Jay replied, and grinned to remember who'd stocked his fridge last. Kala kept doing that as often as she could; he probably had more disposable income than she did, but she liked taking care of him. And to be honest, he liked opening his fridge and finding groceries there he hadn't bought. Like a wholesome surprise. "Why, what're you up to?"

"Wondering why Superman hasn't picked you up and shaken some sense into you," Donna shot back.

Yep, about how he expected this would go. "Nah, he's cool. Actually realizes his baby daughter is a grown-ass woman who can make her own decisions. Now, the _brother_, he's trying to be a problem, but I've got kryptonite if he decides to come back and finish me off."

"Leave Jason alone," Donna snapped.

He couldn't help it; he laughed at her. Figures she liked the goody-goody Super-sibling. "Chill, Donna, I've got nothing against him. He's the one who came stomping into the Batcave yelling 'Stay away from my sister!' Had to tell the kid she's the one who comes to me."

"I bet you did, too, you enormous jerk," she sighed. "Jay … _what_ the heck is this? I mean, we _talked_ about her. Kala's got issues. I was glad she was getting trained, and now this? You're sleeping with your trainee? Of all the people, with everything you and I know, you went and fell in bed with _her_."

Jay decided to enjoy this, because the alternative was getting pissed, and he didn't want to be too pissed at Donna. She was a worry-wort, and if he let loose on her, he'd hurt her more than she deserved. Even if she _was_ being a complete jackass about K right now.

"Yeah, I trained her," he said. "And she's _good_. K's got skills, she drained down the powers so she could learn to fight without 'em, and she's pretty fucking impressive. Now that she's sunned up again, she's all kinds of badass. And _fun_ to work with, too, she knows my plays backwards and forwards. We make a helluva good team."

"And that's a reason to seduce her," Donna grumbled.

"_Seduce_? Who do you think you're talking to? Dick?" Ouch, that was too far, he dialed it back quickly. "K came after me, Donna. Intending to kick my ass and get some answers out of me, and when I finally coughed up the fact that I was into her, we basically wrecked my apartment. Nobody seduced anybody, it was good old-fashioned mutual lust. Remember that, Donna? You used to like it."

He heard her sigh heavily. "Yes, you bring out the wild side in women. Good for you. Fine, it was mutual, but what on earth makes you think it's a good idea? Kala's a loose cannon, don't try to tell me a few months has changed that!"

"No, but she can call in her shots now," Jay spat back. "You were completely off about Kala. That was all that was ever wrong, she had no lines of communication. You would've loved her the first half of summer, she was all 'yes, sir' to Bruce and toeing the line like a good soldier. You don't know the first fucking thing about who she is and what she does and why she does it. You've got her wrong all the way back from when we first started fighting about her, and I got her right."

"You want to think that," Donna said stubbornly. "We _met_ Kara! Our Supergirl is nothing like her!"

"No, she's a fucking exclusive," Jay shot back. "When we were crossing universes, we heard about three of you and two of me, one of which was a fuckin' ginger, but _our_ world got the only Supergirl who's Big Blue's actual _daughter_. Not his cousin. Only here did we get both of his kids, and it's no wonder she's fiery, she's Lois Lane's daughter! Even your big sis gets out of Lane's way."

"We all know no one crosses Lois Lane," Donna replied automatically.

"There's a _reason_ for that," Jay insisted. "She's got the temper. Superman fights because the powers mean he's the only one who can take on certain things. His wife, and his daughter, fight because they fuckin' _like it_. They're warriors born, the both of them. K told me once she'd been to Themyscira, and Artemis wanted to _keep_ her."

She actually sniffed with disdain. "Of course she did. Artemis is just as much of a wild heathen as Kala."

Jay chuckled. "Don't like your sister's girlfriend? Pity, she sounds like fun. You better be glad you were wrong about K, Don. If she was as much a loose cannon as you think, she'd just yeet your ass all the way back to Themyscira."

"_Yeet?_ What does that even _mean_?" Donna asked waspishly.

He couldn't help a rumbling laugh. "You need to talk to more people under twenty-five, Donna. Basically throw, with prejudice."

"She couldn't…" Donna began, and Jay cut her off.

"Shut it, when it comes to powers like yours training doesn't matter. Initiative does. Kala's faster and meaner. The shit you said to and about her, she could've slam-dunked you into the sun before you knew she was coming." That wasn't entirely true, if Jay thought about it seriously. Donna was a warrior too, and not so easily defeated, no matter how ruthless Kala could be or how well he'd trained her.

"You're not exactly convincing me of anything good about her, here," Donna said, her voice sharp.

"Babs likes her," Jay pointed out. "A lot. So does Dinah. Hell, so does _Dick_. Oh, I bet you know that already, that's half of why you're calling. Don't be pissed, Donna, Dickie-Bird loves everyone as long as they don't cross any of his moral lines. Shit, he even likes me these days. How could he resist someone who's as much of a fucking showboat as him?"

"Of course he does, he's ridiculously forgiving, and now that she's got some training he can't shut up about her," she replied bitterly. "He's the one who told me to call you, actually. That still doesn't mean anyone should let you train up a weapon of mass destruction, much less sleep with her!"

He scoffed at her, and any intention to be gentle with her was just _gone_. "I didn't have to get anyone to sign my permission slip to train her _or_ fuck her. We're both grownups, Donna, for fuck's sake. And she's not the only WMB I've been to bed with. Whaddya think _you_ are?"

"Is _that_ what the deal is?" Donna snapped. "I mean, she's even got black hair. And she flies."

Jay inhaled and let it out before answering her. "That's a low fucking blow, Donna. Too low for you, even. Maybe I have a kink for women who can break me. So the fuck what? Other than that, K's nothing like you. You fly like little old ladies drive. K flies like a fighter pilot playing around in VR. We went to Hong Kong in two hours. And I've watched her dodge bullets – that I shot at her, so it took some real acrobatics to get around."

"You _shot_ at her?" Donna squeaked. "Oh my gods, Jay, you actually shot at Superman's daughter?"

"Relax, she was wearing an armored uniform I designed for her, and she had powers enough to slap the bullets aside," Jay laughed. "It's all part of training. And I absolutely appreciate a woman who can train to her breaking point, until she can't even stand, and come back later to kick my ass. She's _good_, Donna. Fuck, if you'd drop the shock and outrage you might _like_ her."

"I doubt that," she replied, with a sneer in her tone.

"Gotta yank that ship's mast out from up your ass, first," Jay said. "When you were with me, you weren't this stuck up."

"When I was with you, everyone thought I'd lost my mind," Donna shot back.

"Yeah, 'cause you're the good girl, nobody ever expects a girl like you to get with a guy like me – but I seem to get a lot of interest from women who are too good for me." Jay shook his head, dinner forgotten. "I was the one losing my mind. We were living in a house in the suburbs, Donna. My natural habitat has a lot more concrete and crime."

She made an exasperated noise. "We were both trying to get over all that craziness with the multiverse, and needed something a little quieter. I don't remember you complaining at the time."

"I was sleeping with _Troia_. I'd had a crush on you since I was like thirteen! I would've followed you into Hell itself," Jay told her, laughing at his own stupid younger self.

"You could've _said_ something. And thanks, way to make me feel like a cradle-robber. For the record, us being together had nothing to do with that crush you had. You were a cute kid, but you grew up into a beautiful and … _fucked-up_ man. You can't blame me for being drawn to you." She didn't swear often, and Jay could almost hear her struggling with the words, but it was true. And she always tried to be truthful.

"Yeah, but then you tried to fix me," he said. "Some things you can't fix, Donna."

She challenged, "So what're you doing with Kala, if not fixing her?"

"She doesn't _need_ fixing, she just needed some experience and a little formal training," Jay spat. "She's smart enough not to try and fix _me_, either. She likes me just the way I am, crazy and all."

"Because she's got her share of crazy, too," Donna argued.

"She's not as crazy as you think. At least K never called me Dick when mine was in her!" That just leapt out of him, and Jay bit his lip as soon as he'd said it. Dammit, he was trying _not_ to hurt Donna. But she kept whaling on Kala, and he couldn't abide that.

A long pause, and then she said in a tense, tight voice, "That was low, but I guess I deserved it. I screwed up and I know it, and I'm sorry, Jay. I never meant for that to happen."

"Yeah, no one ever does. I'm over it," he said, trying to skirt the issue.

"You're a bad liar," Donna told him. "And anyway, that wasn't me being crazy, it was me being _stupid_. Embarrassingly so. Kala's issues are a whole other situation."

She wasn't giving up, but at least she admitted she'd been wrong for that. So Jay took a deep breath before trying, one more time, to make her see. "You know _why_ Kala never got trained? Why she stayed out of it all, unless her brother was in trouble?"

"No. Do you?" And there was actual curiosity there.

…

It had taken Selina longer than it should've to find this location, but she always found what she was looking for eventually. She picked the lock easily, knowing security _here_ was much more than just locks and alarms.

The place seemed quiet, but not an _abandoned_ quiet, and she eased forward, listening at every third step. The air smelled fresh and clean despite the ramshackle exterior of the building, and when Selina sniffed deeply, she caught a whiff of cinnamon. "She's stress-baking again," she whispered to herself.

Somewhere off to her left, something moved, and a low, nervous chuckle echoed through the apartment. Selina turned in that direction, but heard a new noise that changed the whole game: the sound of the hammer on a very large revolver being drawn back. And a faint rustling like tree branches in the wind.

"Relax, girls, it's me," she called out, standing still with her hands up. "Harls? Pam? I just came to see if you were all right."

A light flicked on, showing her Harley standing in the hallway in just a t-shirt and panties, her gun aimed at Selina. One of the hyenas was at her side, his tail tucked under, still making the nervous titter that people tending to mistake for laughter. And Ivy…

Selina felt a slight tug at her ankle, and in the next instant she was hanging upside down from a vine wrapped around one leg. She sighed, and crossed her arms. "I would've called first, but your phone's out."

"I broke the SIM cards," Pam explained, stepping past Harley – who had at least un-cocked the gun. The redhead looked up at Selina calmly. "Phones can be tracked."

"Joker's not gonna be doing any tracking," Selina said, looking at them both. Harley's eyes were shadowed, as if she hadn't been sleeping, and her pale throat was ringed in old yellowish bruises. Two of her fingers were splinted, too, and there were healing scrapes on her knuckles. More bruises on her legs and the sliver of belly that Selina could see, but none of that was a surprise. They all knew it had to have been a big fight.

Pam was unscathed, not a mark on her green skin anywhere the nightgown she wore showed it. Then again, the witness statements from the veterinarian indicated that she hadn't been in it at all, arriving to the clinic well after the fact. Selina still preferred to verify things herself.

She continued, as if being strung up to the ceiling and held at gunpoint were a normal evening, "His biggest worry these days is bedsores. He might just be eating through a tube up his nose for the rest of his hopefully very much shortened life. Good job, Harls."

At that, Harley laughed, her voice jagged. "Not good enough. I shoulda killed 'im."

"Yeah, well, we've been saying that for years," Selina replied with a shrug. "Pam, could you let me down? Please?"

"I'm not worried about Joker tracking us down," Ivy said. "It's _your_ boyfriend I'm trying to keep clear of. Which is why you can stay right there while I decide what to do with you."

Selina sighed heavily. "Look, girls, the Bat's mostly worried about you sneaking into Gotham General and pulling the plug. Yeah, he's looking for you both, but if I wanted him to find you, do you _really_ think I'd walk in the door first?"

They looked at each for a moment, then back to her. Lou, pressed against Harley's leg, whined softly. Selina just waited; trust was hard to come by, among their set. Everyone in Gotham _knew_ she and Batman had something. These two knew a bit more than that, namely that Selina had genuine feelings for the guy. But she'd never sold them out to the Bats. Just like she'd never let the whole run of Wayne secret identities slip to the girls. It was hard to walk the line between worlds, but she managed it.

"Oh, let her down," Harley finally said. "What else are we gonna do, hold her hostage? Yeah, that'd be rich."

Ivy still hesitated, but they all heard a brief, pained whine. Lou spun and hurried up the hall, whimpering; a moment later Bud limped up to stand in front of his mistress.

"Aw, Bud, you poor thing," Selina crooned, and he did look miserable. His whole side was shaved, along with one foreleg; he was holding one foot up as if it hurt to bear weight on it; and most pitiful of all, he was wearing an Elizabethan collar to keep him from chewing at his stitches. "They got you in the cone of shame, Bud, I'm so sorry."

Harley scratched his head, and he leaned into her. With a sigh, Ivy let her down, and Selina went over to the hyena, crouching down fearlessly. They _were_ catlike, in their way, and he gave a contented groan as she rubbed his face. "Poor _baby_, I know, it's hard out there for a hyena, yes it is." Lou shoved his muzzle under her arm, and she kissed his nose. "Good Lou, you're watching out for your brother?"

"They had to do a blood transfusion," Harley said. "Luckily for me, they're the same blood group. Bud, he was … it was real bad. That vet is a _saint_, lemme tell ya. Good man."

"Smart man," Ivy said. "He waited to call the police after we left."

Selina leaned away from the hyenas, who were both trying to lick her face. "Yeah, that pissed off the Bats something good, but it was the smartest choice. I'll tell you, girls, the capes are more worried about whether you two are gonna be okay than anything else."

"How charmingly altruistic," Ivy said dryly. "Batman _is_ the one who insisted on sunlight in my cell at Arkham, I haven't forgotten that. It doesn't change the fact that he wants us both in a _cell_. Until we're 'cured'."

Selina shrugged. "He's got a hate-on for crime, ladies. Mostly violent crime, but he's locked me up, too." She patted the hyenas one last time, and stood up to look Harley in the eyes. "_You_, Harls. I'm so glad to see you – and see you're not hurt any worse."

Glancing at her splinted fingers, Harley shrugged. "It's nothing."

"It's not _nothing_," Selina said, and caught her shoulders, hugging her. The blonde was stiff for a moment, then relaxed, leaning into her gratefully. Against her shoulder, Selina continued, "I'm _proud_ of you, Harls. That was a long time coming."

"Yeah, it was," she said in a small voice.

That almost sounded regretful, and Selina leaned back to look at her seriously. "Are you really okay? I'm not asking because that's what good guys do, I'm asking as your friend. Big changes are always difficult, even if they're for the better."

Harley nodded, her blue eyes huge. "I'm good. It's … it can't be easy, y'know? But I'm through with him. Soon as I can work my way around security, I'm gonna put an end to this, once and for all."

Selina felt an unexpected chill up her back at that. It should've been a great idea, but it sounded like a terrible one to her. "Be careful, Harls. I don't need you getting taken out by the cops, okay?"

"As if I'd let that happen," Ivy grumbled.

Selina shivered. Sometimes she felt foreboding like this, and wondered if it was the same kind of feeling that made Miss Kitty's eyes go wide, put her hackles up, and sent her racing around the apartment after something no human could see. Whatever it was, Selina didn't ignore a hunch. "I'm serious, Harley. The smartest thing you could do would be to walk away. Hell, let Hood off him – I heard a rumor he's a little jealous that you got to beat the bastard unconscious instead of him."

Harley rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Hoodie had his run at Mistah J back before I even got my internship. He had his chance. This time, I'm gonna be the one who does it."

"There's a lot of people in this town who think they should take him out," Selina said frankly. "Best idea would be to string him up like a piñata, let everyone take a whack."

Harley giggled at that, but Ivy just looked at Selina thoughtfully. "As far as _I'm_ concerned, a good idea would be getting out of this miserable town."

"But Pammy…" Harley said pleadingly, "I wanna go kill Mistah J! After everything he's done, to me, to you, to _everybody_, I wanna be the one to punch his clock!"

"The worst thing he ever did to me, was make me watch you walking away from me for him," Ivy said with cold honesty that made Selina flinch. Apparently her being here had touched off a conversation the two had managed not to have over the last few days. Harley looked wide-eyed at Ivy, who continued, "From where I stand, you going to kill him looks much the same as you going to join him. Let him rot, Harley. You shattered his skull. Odds are, he'll die anyway – and if he doesn't, _someone_ will put him down. Hood's on the short list for that, but Selina's right. There's a long line of retribution waiting for him."

Selina bit her lip, thinking. She'd _said_ Jay would kill Joker, and she was pretty sure Jay _thought_ he'd kill Joker, but maybe having a Super at his side changed the outcome a little. "Whether Hood does or not … Joker's lived through a lot of things that should've killed him. If he ever _does_ get out of that hospital bed, Harley, he's gonna come hunting you. Maybe leaving is the best bet."

Harley looked from Pam to Selina, her expression torn. "But … I don't _wanna_ leave Gotham. We had this conversation, I don't wanna run away. I need to finish this."

"You need to do what's best for _you_. Not Joker, not this miserable city. And you're the only one who can decide what that is. What would be best for _me_ is going someplace greener than this." Ivy laughed, shaking her head. "I'd almost decided to leave, but … you were here. And I still had hope."

"What's here for you, Harls?" Selina asked softly. "I mean, pissing off Batman is a great hobby, but is that all you wanna do for the rest of your life? You've got Pam and the boys. You've both got more smarts than should legally be allowed in one room. You can make it _anywhere_. Gotham's not that special a town."

"Not that special? You sure seem to love it," Harley pointed out.

"I have to love this cesspool, I was born here, but you're from Brooklyn. If you can make it in New York City, you can make it anywhere, right? You can go wherever you want." Selina herself could go anywhere, and had, but there was a reason she kept coming back. Said reason was six-foot-two, not counting the cowl, but she preferred to let everyone think it was nostalgia for the old hometown.

"You also have someone who can only be pried out of Gotham by a full-scale global threat or alien invasion," Ivy said, echoing her thoughts. "Harley, the only thing I care about in Gotham is _you_."

The blonde blushed a little at that. "Aw, come on," she said, still shy of praise. "Hey Selina, I made cinnamon buns. You want a couple? Also you wanna come sit down and talk, since we're not gonna shoot each other tonight?"

Selina laughed at that very Harley segue. "Sure. Just one, though, there's no room to let the seams out in this outfit."

They moved into the living room, Harley heading into the kitchen, and Selina helped Bud get up on the couch. The big hyena sighed heavily, sprawling out, and she ran a hand down his spotted flank. Bandages on his chest hinted at a very close call, indeed. Lou hopped up beside him, licking her hand and gazing up at her. Selina herself sat on the arm of the couch, ceding it to the two hyenas whose combined weight made the springs groan.

"Harley thinks Lou may be traumatized," Ivy said, taking one of the chairs. "Are they cat enough for you to tell him he'll be all right?"

"You know I don't _actually_ talk to cats, right?" Selina said, but she petted Lou and murmured, "You're a good boy, Lou. You're okay. Bud's gonna be okay. And Auntie Pam will make sure your mom's okay." He whined and licked her chin, which she could've lived without, honestly. The hyena's breath was an _experience_.

"She's … fragile," Ivy murmured. "But determined. I've never seen her like this."

"He should've known not to hurt the boys," Selina said, shaking her head. "Self-absorbed asshole. Sadistic, psychotic asshole, too. I bet it surprised the hell outta him when she kicked his ass."

"Let's hope he never regains consciousness to ask," Ivy replied, and the look in her eyes was murderous.

Selina looked over at her, cocking her head to the side. "You never did it because she wouldn't forgive you, right?"

Those green eyes went flat and cold for an instant, and the hair on the nape of Selina's neck tried to stand up inside her suit. "If anyone else had done this, Harley would kill them … or die trying," Ivy said carefully. "_He_ knew that. And said as much to me. Among other things."

It really was a wonder that Joker had lived this long. "I'm sure he got his jollies figuring out twisted shit to say to all of us," Selina replied.

"I gave him the ammunition," Ivy told her with a shrug.

Well, to be fair, she _had_ gone and decided that his sidekick and lover was the one human being in the world she cared about, so that _did_ kind of leave her vulnerable. Ivy couldn't have picked a worse person to fall in love with. Then again, Selina had fallen for a guy who was: one, morally opposed to her profession; two, a costumed vigilante good enough to _catch_ her; and three, deeply emotionally fucked up with all kinds of issues around abandonment and commitment.

Oh wait, don't forget number four: married. To the Daughter of the Demon. Who hadn't been back to her London flat yet, and Selina was wondering how long her 'gift' would stay effective. Yeah, she really couldn't throw shade at Pam.

Some of that must've shown in her expression, because Ivy asked, "What did Joker ever say to _you_?"

"Mostly just that I had shitty taste in men. Which, hey, can't deny," Selina replied, which was glossing over a lot. Everyone knew Joker was crazy and vicious; the thing people forgot was how damn _smart_ he was, and how good his insight into the human psyche was. Selina had steered clear of him as much as possible, and when she couldn't, she tried not to let herself seem unnerved. She felt like Miss Kitty, who had once accidentally walked too close to a chained junkyard dog. Luckily the chain was about six inches too short for the mutt to get his teeth into her best girl, but Miss Kitty had frozen for a moment as the furious barking shattered the air so close to her.

And then sat down to groom her toes with studied nonchalance, as the dog went crazy trying to get her. Selina had come along and picked her up, not liking the way the chain groaned with each lunge. She'd used that same careful lack of reaction when Joker fixed her with his terribly intense gaze and chuckled, "He'll never really love you. The man is married to Gotham, and you've been a bad, bad kitty. Does he know just how bad? Does he know how _you_ know all the high society etiquette, and where you learned it? I bet he does, I bet he squirms a little wondering what dear old mum and dad would think of their precious boy running around with an East End _whore_…"

She'd yawned in his face then, just like Miss Kitty. "Get some new material, Joker. I heard that one years ago."

She shouldn't have dared him, she'd known that even then, but her pride wouldn't let her show that those words hurt. He'd grinned that horrible split grin at her, and crooned, "You're right, you're right, Batsy's a thoroughly modern post-feminist, he's not going to judge you – but really, kitty-cat, you should charge him. He's got to be loaded to afford all those toys. And you know you're just how he outsources the emotional labor, all the things he can't let himself feel because he might go a little _batty_ if he did. If you're gonna do the work for him, you should at least get paid for it."

That had hurt, too, and Selina had leaned in close, smiling as ruthlessly as he did – because one thing she _had_ learned along the way was how to smile when she really wanted to cry. "You're reaching, Jokes. I'm just using him to get what I want. Isn't that what we all do?"

Calling him anything other than Joker had provoked his anger like a flash-flood, and he'd taken a swipe at her. Selina returned it with interest, but she'd gotten away rather than fight it out. She'd told herself it was because she didn't want Harley complaining to her later, but mostly it was because she'd been thoroughly unnerved. Clarity and communication were hard in any relationship, worse when both of you wore masks on a regular basis and kept more secrets than the Vatican library.

Ivy scoffed, breaking into her reverie. "_Men_ are terrible, not your taste in them."

"Aw, come on, some of them are fun," Selina said with a chuckle.

Harley came back in then, with homemade cinnamon buns and coffee. "Nah, men are terrible. Sorry, Selina, no Bat-fans here. I dunno what you see in the guy."

"Chiseled jaw and a nice butt," Selina retorted, and all of them laughed.

"He _is_ kinda cute. For a brooding vigilante," Harley admitted. She poured coffee for all of them, then sat on the arm of Ivy's chair. "Hey, Selina, since you mentioned Hood – what do you know about the new girl, Blur?"

"What _is_ she?" Ivy echoed.

"Fast, and trouble," Selina said, making herself sound rueful. This was another of those things she couldn't tell the girls; breaking open the Supers' identities was something she absolutely didn't want to do. Hell, she _liked _Lois Lane. Someone should've gotten that one in a costume years ago, she'd really shake up the JLA. All she said was, "It's no fun doing rooftop chases with someone who can outrun a Ferrari. Luckily she's more interested in Hood's kind of bad guys than little old me."

Harley looked at her knowingly. "_Little_, right. Didn't you steal the Hope diamond just to prove you could?"

"I only kept it overnight. That's borrowing, not stealing. And putting it back was harder than taking it." Saying so reminded her again of breaking into Talia's London flat, and she smiled a little to herself, hiding it by taking a bite of her cinnamon bun.

Ivy only shook her head. "I've met Blur. She shouldn't have been able to throw off my control. The speed alone makes her some kind of meta, but that means she has something else, too. Be careful, Selina."

Selina just shrugged with her customary insouciance. "I try not to get the big guns' attention. Hood is fine, he doesn't care about my kind of crime. And Blur's not out every night."

"She can take a hit," Harley put in. "Most people fold up when I whack 'em over the head with a police baton; not Blur. She was getting chewed on by the boys, too, and if Pammy hadn't come in, I think she woulda got away."

This was getting more uncomfortable by the moment, Selina's divided loyalties poking at her. She _liked_ Kala, who was obviously good for Jay, too. Even Bruce liked her in his very undemonstrative Bruce way. But she absolutely couldn't let Harley or Ivy find out there was a Kryptonian in Gotham. It'd be pure mayhem, one of them might leak the knowledge, and then every mask in town would start carrying kryptonite. Some of them already were, thanks to Superboy, but Kala had made a much bigger impression.

At the same time, she didn't want the girls to run afoul of Kala, who was packing more firepower than anyone else in Gotham. Selina genuinely _liked_ both Harley and Pam, something she couldn't say about many people, and she didn't want them getting hurt. Or locked up again, if she could help it.

"I think you're right, there's more to that one than meets the eye," Selina finally said. "Bats is _very_ careful about what he lets slip, where she's concerned. I'd steer clear, ladies."

Harley took a bite of her cinnamon bun, and held out a piece for Bud, who slurped it up eagerly. "I got no problem with her. She knocked me out before I ever saw her, the first time, and I heard she checked up on the boys at the zoo. Can't hate an animal lover, y'know?"

"Oh, is that why we're friends?" Selina asked, chuckling. Harley just stuck her tongue out in response.

"I'd rather not deal with metahumans," Ivy said, regardless of the fact that she _was_ one. "I've got nothing major planned for the winter, anyway. It shouldn't be hard to steer clear."

"What about spring?" Selina asked.

A pause, and Ivy sighed. "I was planning to leave in the spring, to go somewhere more tropical. But Harley … things have changed. I won't go without you."

Harley looked at her worriedly. "Red, I dunno. I mean, I get why you'd want to go. Lots of places would be much better for you than this. Gotham's got too much smog."

"The winters are terrible, too," Ivy replied. "Other than a couple of city parks, there's nothing green here. And I hear the Green calling me." Her eyes looked faraway when she spoke, the humanity in them flickering.

Selina wondered sometimes if the Green that Ivy spoke of was something _else_, something outside that the others couldn't hear, or maybe just something in her own perception. She'd been committed to Arkham for insisting that the Green was real, among other things – the headshrinkers took a dim view of anyone claiming that a voice told them what to do. That Ivy's Green was the voice of the vegetable world just made her seem more deluded to the doctors at Arkham.

Harley seemed to believe her absolutely, but Harley had believed in more impossible things, like Joker having a functional sense of empathy. Selina was still on the fence about it. She didn't discount her own intuition, ever, but she rolled her eyes at the notion that she was some kind of avatar of all things feline. She understood cats well enough to feel safe handling any of them, even the big cats. And she'd consciously modeled her Catwoman persona around feline myths and legends. But she didn't hear the voice of Bastet in her mind, or anything like that.

If there was anything supernatural about Selina, it was Miss Kitty. Who had to be about ten years old, and still looked the same as ever – but cats didn't show their age much. And who was at least as intelligent and perceptive as a human being – but that was a low bar to clear, considering most humans. Selina didn't think about it, she just accepted Miss Kitty as she was, the same way she expected anyone in her life to accept _her_ as she was.

Harley ran a hand through Ivy's red hair, and the warmth came back to her gaze as she looked up at her. The blonde sighed. "I dunno, Red. I just – if you went, I guess I'd have to go with you. Selina's right, I don't have much reason to stay, once Joker's in the ground."

"I can think of one reason," Ivy said softly, and Harley swallowed, looking away.

Selina didn't know what _that_ was about, but she knew she couldn't push either of them to leave, even if her intuition said it was best. That was the difference between her and Bruce. He tried to get people to do what was in their own best interest. She knew too many who'd ruin themselves just to be able to say they weren't manipulated.

In the end, she just shrugged. "Girls, if you decide to go, I'll miss the hell out of you. We had some good times – "

"When you weren't turning us in," Ivy pointed out.

"Hey, I broke you out at least as often as I got you locked up," Selina argued. Lou licked her hand, whining, as Bud gave a complaining groan. The hyenas had had _enough_ of interpersonal quarreling, and Selina softened her tone. "Look, we've all screwed each other over. That's life in Gotham. But I don't want either of you hurt. If you go, I won't tell the Bat where to look. Mostly 'cause I don't wanna know. I am gonna miss you, though, so … send postcards? Maybe email? It's your life, ladies, I'd just sleep a lot easier if you were nowhere near Gotham General and the Joker."

Ivy looked at her shrewdly. "Is this one of your feline hunches?"

Sighing, Selina rolled her eyes. "You're the meta in the room, Pam. I just have a good schtick."

"I'm not talking about this," Harley declared. "Right now security on Gotham General is tighter than Cobblepot's fist around a hundred-dollar bill. I've been bidin' my time, waitin' for a chance to go finish what I started, and I'm not gonna give up without at least thinkin' it over real good."

"Sure, I understand that," Selina said, looking at Ivy. The redhead raised one eyebrow and gave a slight shrug. They both knew Harley was difficult to persuade once she had her heart set on something.

"Glad we got that sorted," Harley said.

"The Bats are smart enough to know you're thinking about it," Selina offered. "They'll be watching for you both. You can get away with just about anything else, right now, but if you go near the hospital, one of them will be waiting."

She saw Harley's eyes go wary, almost hunted, and then she shook her head. "It's too soon to worry about it. No one knows for sure if he's gonna live through each day. Maybe he'll do us all a favor and just croak. But if he doesn't … I'm not makin' any promises, Selina. One way or the other."

Selina really wished she had a way to convince Harley that it didn't matter, that by beating the hell out of Joker, she'd done all she needed to. But convincing people wasn't her strong suit.

Instead, Ivy said musingly, "If we could get away with anything else, just now … Selina, would you like to rob a bank? Maybe two?"

"Yeah! I love hittin' banks, it's the looks on the rich people's faces when they realize they can't make _this_ problem go away," Harley chortled.

Selina rolled her eyes heavenward. _Forgive me, Bruce,_ she thought, and leaned forward to discuss which banks would be best.


	13. Wish I Could Offer an Appeal

Donna Troy had just learned a few hours ago that her most obstreperous ex-boyfriend was doing something _incredibly_ stupid. Again. She'd called Dick first, ranting at him for letting this happen, and why hadn't he put a stop to it?

For the first time in a long time – maybe the first time ever – Dick had lost his temper with her. _Dick_, who had anger issues like all the Robins, hell, like all the hero kids, but he'd gotten a good grip on it as he'd grown up. She trusted him implicitly, and loved him as only two kids who'd been through hell together could, and when he snapped at her, something in her chest had ratcheted down into a tight ball of pain.

_You want to know what the hell is going on? Call Jay and ask him,_ he'd told her. _You won't listen to me, maybe you'll listen to him. You've got his number._

That was cold, but true. And she _hadn't_ been listening to Dick. The worry-rat in her own mind had been gnawing hard, all of her instincts lit up like alarm bells blaring _this is a bad idea, this is dangerous, two wild cards running together, bad news, the potential for disaster is too high_ … and Dick had _tried _to tell her half a dozen times that Kala was fine, Kala was good, her training had gone beautifully.

She had a hard time picturing that. Donna had _seen _Kala, young and beautiful and powerful and so damn certain of herself. The merry hellfire in her eyes, the way she lunged into a fight almost joyfully, and it had taken every ounce of Donna's restraint not to snatch her up and scream into her face, _This is not a game! You could get yourself and everyone you care about __**killed,**__ little girl!_

The way she wished someone had yelled at _her_, when she was sixteen and perfect in her confidence. When she thought she and Dick and Roy and the rest had the world in the palms of their hands.

The way someone really _should've_ yelled at her when she was eighteen and her surety was battered, but she still believed she'd make all the right choices.

The way no one had dared to yell at her when she was twenty and sleeping with her professor and closing her ears to any hint that maybe she should slow down and rethink things. That maybe trusting someone who seemed so certain, so confident in himself, wasn't a substitute for finding her own shattered faith in herself. Dick and Diana both, all they'd asked was if she loved Terry, and Donna had said _yes_ because she thought it was true … and because saying so might make it true. No one had stopped her, taken her by the shoulders, and asked her what the hell she was doing, giving up her powers to be just an ordinary woman, to be a wife and mother.

The only man Donna knew who had _ever_ dared to shake her certainty was on the phone right now, lashing out with words because _she'd_ questioned _him_. Somehow she knew that if he'd been around for that, Jay would've wondered out loud and very profanely what the _fuck_ she was doing, giving up who she was for someone else. He damn sure wouldn't have done that.

So she took a deep breath, and steeled herself to listen. Donna leaned against the kitchen counter in her apartment, phone pressed tight to her ear. She could hear Jay gritting his teeth; he'd never liked explaining things, period. Much less to her. But one thing she knew about him, he'd defend someone he cared about, no matter what. "It all goes back to Kala getting kidnapped when she was sixteen. Didja know Luthor had General Zod, too?"

She shivered at that name, a villain she'd been _very _glad never to have faced. "Diana told me that Luthor faked his death and took him prisoner. Kala was lucky to escape alive; Di admired her for surviving it." She couldn't help a hint of jealousy, too, for anyone Diana admired – as if the princess and warrior and big sister had ever stinted in her love. It wasn't like that, but even this many years later, Donna couldn't help feeling like she was an inferior copy, and she couldn't quite stop herself from feeling a spark of hurt for anyone else Diana favored. She stubbed it out, every time, knowing it was her own fear speaking, but somehow she couldn't keep it from springing alight in the first place.

Jay wasn't going to touch any kind of sibling rivalry, though, because he didn't have a leg to stand on and knew it. Instead, he told her, "It's a little more complicated than that. Luthor has a copy of these crystals with all the information Krypton's greatest scientists collected. Including weapons technology, but that's buried real deep. Luthor couldn't get to it by himself, he needed a native speaker of Kryptonese to unlock it. That's why he took Zod. And Zod figured out what Luthor wanted, and lied to him. Told him he needed a genetic descendant of Jor-El to get at that data. _That's_ why he kidnapped Kala. Luthor wanted to come at us with Kryptonian weaponry, shit that's advanced way beyond anything we've ever seen." Surprisingly, Jay, who had walked across worlds and returned from the as-good-as-dead, sounded spooked by the prospect.

Donna murmured something in Greek a lot older than anything he would've heard at the gyro shop, and Jay gave an honest chuckle. "Yeah, it freaks me out, too. Zod _saved_ Kala from some of Luthor's goons, and he collaborated with her to keep Luthor from getting at that information. He was pretty much her only ally, for the four days or so that Luthor had her. And in the end, she killed him."

She gasped at that, which Diana had _not_ seen fit to share, and Jay rolled on before she could interject anything. "It's not my story to tell. The community thinks Luthor killed him; they're wrong. It was K. Because she realized at the last minute that the sonofabitch was _grooming_ her, and he'd kill Big Blue and her brother if he could. She took him out first. Kala is the only reason why we're not all pledging allegiance to the House of Zod these days."

"I never knew it was that close," Donna whispered, nightmares chortling in her ears. She'd faced bad odds, herself – and died.

"Yeah, and you know how you used to bitch about saving the world before you could drive? She was sixteen. Fuck, I think she'd only been sixteen for a couple months. Just a kid. Just like us. _That's_ why she bowed out. That fucker Zod got in her head, and she thought she was too much like _him_ to ever be a hero. She was trying to be a civvie, just step in when she couldn't avoid it, and then one of the fucking founding Titans shows up when she just saved the day and reads her the riot act, chews her ass in front of her brother and his buddies."

Donna winced. It sounded like she had more in common with Kala than she ever would've guessed. Trying to walk away from the hero life because you knew you weren't good enough – oh, she could empathize. Enough to cringe a little even now. In Donna's case, it had been Terry who'd looked askance at her powers, who'd worried that she was simply _too much_ for a normal life, and after being a hero so young all she'd wanted was normalcy, safety, certainty. _Sanity_. They'd even wondered if Robert might inherit her abilities, and that had frightened Terry badly. So Donna had given it all up.

But nothing could change what she _was_. Her life was a gift from the gods themselves, a wish made by a desperate grieving mother, and just surrendering her powers didn't make her _normal_. Nothing ever would.

Strange how Jay was probably the only one who'd looked at her weirdness squarely, and been neither frightened nor awed. He'd been in awe of her as a kid, but that was the primal power of cleavage, nothing mystical about it. Jay had accepted what she was and treated her _normally_. He'd made her freaky circumstances a non-issue, just part of her.

The only other person in her life who'd treated her like that was Dick. And Donna wouldn't damage _that_ for anything.

She sighed, focusing on the conversation at hand and not all their old history. She hadn't been _entirely _wrong about Kala. "She saved the day, yes, but she created a whole new problem for the rest of them in doing so. That's just the kind of slapdash unplanned nonsense that gets people _killed_, Jay, and you know it."

Jay grumbled under his breath, the way he used to do when his head ached with phantom pains from injuries the Lazarus Pit should've healed. "And _you_ worry too damn much. You know that, too. Haven't you ever heard that no battle plan survives first contact with the enemy? All that shit out there has to be improvised, past a certain point. And now K knows how not to swamp the good guys with a pressure wave, and she's got a comm to let them know she's coming, so how about you lay off? That won't happen again. The situation's resolved."

"How would_ we_ know?" she challenged again. "As soon as she got trained up, you decided she's going to be _your_ partner. Anything she does wrong is gonna be covered up by working with a veteran. And since when do _you_ have a partner?"

"Oh, are you jealous now?" Jay shot back. "Maybe she doesn't work with your crowd because she's heard that Goth Barbie shit one too many times, and if _I_ hear it, I'm putting a boot up someone's ass. Or maybe she just doesn't have the time – she has to sneak away from her day job to run with me."

"You still didn't answer why she's your partner. Seriously, Jay, we _talked_ about this girl, and you not only trained her, you went and slept with her the first chance you got." Donna was thoroughly nettled now. She'd stamped down on the 'Goth Barbie' foolishness, too. No matter what anyone thought of one another's fashion choices, the team shouldn't take potshots at each other like that. That was less important to her than getting to the bottom of his reasons for what seemed like the worst idea of the century.

He'd defended Donna like this, once upon a time, and it also hurt to hear him speak so staunchly of someone else now. Someone who worried Donna so much.

Jay ground his teeth audibly. "Actually, no, she said she wasn't in Gotham to hook up, so I never made a move. Not even when training got a little physical and it was pretty clear we were both thinking nasty thoughts about each other. So no, I did _not_ sleep with her the first chance I got. When _she_ made it clear she wanted to go there, and not just as a distraction, then yeah, I went there. As for _partners_, sue me if she's the first one to really _get_ me and not try to change me. I'm sick of all that. She knows how I work, she'll back me up, and she's damn good to have on my side in a fight. I'm not hoarding her over here in Gotham, she's free to go wherever she wants, but she _likes_ this fucked-up town. And Gotham could use some of that light she shines everywhere."

Another long pause, and then Donna sighed. "Jay…"

"Not to mention, you get zero say in who I sleep with," he continued, rolling right over whatever she was about to tell him. "You're not my mom, Donna, you're my ex. What and who I do after you is none of your business. Yeah, we talked about her – and you were wrong. Like I said. Also she was ready to drop-kick me across the bay when she figured out that you and I were a thing. You really pissed her off good. Notice that she hasn't like toilet-papered your house or anything."

"I'd like to believe that what I think still carries _some_ weight with you," Donna said waspishly.

Jay snorted a laugh. "Oh hell, Donna, are you really jealous? I was throwing that out there, I didn't think you actually _were_."

"Of course not," she sighed, rolling her eyes. It was only a _little_ true. "Could you maybe stop pretending to be this … hardcore thug I know you're not? For like five minutes? You've done nothing but swing at me since I called. I know you better than that, Jay."

"Do you?" he asked instantly, pushy as ever. Defensive as ever, too.

"I'll bet you fifty bucks there's an Austen novel within five feet of your bed," she retorted, just to prove the point.

"No bet, and K figured that out too," he said. "Maybe half the reason I like her is she gets that no, I'm not just another gutter rat. But she doesn't try to change the way I like to be seen. It's protective coloration in this town, Donna. The bully-boys in the street aren't interested in debating the finer points of classic lit when they could be bashing your brains in. Only the fact that I'll swing first keeps them respectful."

She grumbled under her breath, then said aloud, "Fine. But Jay, _why_ would you go and sleep with the one person in the community you _knew_ I had reservations about? If I'm so wrong about her, you could've called me and _told_ me."

"I told you before I even met her," he replied. "And it wasn't about you. Donna, come on. I had a massive crush, and you were letting me stand in for Dick. Don't talk about it like we were some epic thing."

That … that hurt more than it should've, and Donna swallowed. She'd made more than her share of mistakes in life, but that had been one of the worst. And _nothing_ she could say or do now would ever convince Jay that he'd been more than the _available_ brother.

She owed him the attempt, though.

…

Jay expected a sharp reply, he'd swung to wound, but Donna let the silence hang for a beat too long. He wondered what she was thinking, or if she'd just try to sweep it all under the rug. When she spoke, she surprised him. "It wasn't just that. Dammit, Jay, I was wrong for that. And … thank you, for not telling him about it."

"I'm an asshole, but I'm not _that_ big of an asshole," he replied with a short laugh.

He could almost hear Donna shaking her head in denial. "You're not really an asshole at all. You just want everyone to think you are. And I thought I was more than just a crush."

_That_, Jay wasn't gonna touch. He already had issues with four-letter words starting with L, and no way did he want to analyze his relationship with Donna. She was the kind of person who would've liked to pick things over, examine every conversation, sift every meeting for some kind of deeper meaning. Hell, it was in the past, and he was happy to leave it there. Donna had moved on, so had he. No need to discuss it further.

But he needed to shake her off that topic, so Jay pulled another below-the-belt punch. "C'mon, Donna, don't make it sound like we were all True Love and shit. I wasn't Mr. Right, I was Mr. Right Now. Maybe Mr. Right Place at the Right Time. If not for the multiverse, we would've never hooked up. And you weren't even the _second_ most important person I ever slept with."

That stung, and he knew it would, but she didn't hang up like he expected. "What the hell, how did _Rose_ top out?" Donna said, half-laughing. Still, he heard the taut anger under her voice.

And oh shit, he'd left an opening there he shouldn't have. No way was he gonna confess to Donna about Talia. "There's four whole years of my life where all of you thought I was dead, that you guys know nothing about," Jay said. "I've slept with people you never even heard of."

She gave an aggravated sigh, and Jay realized she thought he was lying. Whatever, that might be the best outcome. To his surprise, though, the next thing Donna said was, "At least you admit Kala's the most important. If you hadn't cut me off, I was going to tell you I'm sorry. For being prejudiced toward her. What you said about her shining her light … Gotham does need that. And I imagine it doesn't exactly hurt you, either."

Too close, so Jay just scoffed. "Yeah, a week or so ago she wore a pair of glow-in-the-dark cat panties and almost got shot in the ass for shining too much. _That_ would've hurt me, on a spiritual level, to damage an ass like that."

"Oh my _gods_," Donna groaned. "Jay! Knock it off, I _know_ better."

"You think you do," he replied.

"You're impossible. And a huge pain in the neck. Why did I ever get involved with you?" He could imagine her expression, looking heavenward as if Zeus himself might answer.

Shit, in her case, he actually _might_. And Jay was _not_ gonna think about the possibility of any gods actually existing.

"Blue eyes and nice abs," Jay shot back, grinning.

Donna laughed at that. "Sure, Jay. Go ahead and think that. All right, I was wrong about Kala. I'll make it up to her. The main reason I called is, are you happy?"

And there it was – the real reason she'd called. Donna still gave a shit about him. What the hell was up with his life, where in the last few months _two_ of his exes were throwing hints that he still mattered? Jay couldn't figure it out; he thought he'd burned this bridge when he walked out on Donna.

He was still feeling flippant and defensive, so his answer couldn't be the simple _Yes_ that was the truth. "I'm fucking _Supergirl_, of course I'm happy," Jay laughed.

She made a disgusted noise. "You try so hard to be so gross. Too bad I know better now. Fine, Jay, don't talk about it. I only want to know one more thing. What happens if you go off the deep end again?"

Jay gritted his teeth. "Nice to know you have as much faith in me as always."

"It's not about faith. We both have issues, let's not pretend otherwise. And we both know we're not the most stable people on the planet." Donna's voice was tight and cold. "What happens if you _do_ start to spin out, Jay?"

Kala's issues weren't his to tell; she knew his darkness better than Donna did, because she had her own. But there _was_ something he could say. "K's not gonna let me go out collecting drug dealers' heads," he spat. "That whole partners thing? Means I trust her to tell me when I'm overdoing it. Just like she trusts me to tell her when she's being too much of a Super, and piling on the guilt for stuff that's not her fault."

Donna sighed. "Dick did say she was good for you. He's all but crowing about this."

"She is good for me," Jay replied. He didn't like the turn this conversation had taken; Donna wasn't being put off by his deflections, and she sounded entirely too _serious_. He couldn't explain to her what it was like, with Kala. How knowing he had backup changed everything. Kala trusted him with her past, even the unsavory bits, and while she wasn't a cold-hearted killer like some women he knew, she was on board with eventually putting Joker down like the mad dog he was. Always assuming the sorry fuck didn't die in the hospital, or Harley didn't swing back by to finish the job.

He heard a note of sorrow in Donna's voice as she said, "I want this to work out for you both, Jay. I really do. I'd love to see you happy on a regular basis. But we know each other. You've always shot yourself in the foot when things get too good. So who's gonna be there to pick up the pieces for Kala, when you pull this same old crap on her and break her heart?"

_That_ was going way too far, and Jay bared his teeth in a vicious grin. "Probably Dick." And immediately hoped that Kala wasn't listening to him right now. Then again, she hadn't shown up to slap him across the ocean, so probably she hadn't heard any of it.

Donna growled something in Greek, and hung up abruptly. At least he could count that as a win.

…

Kala was in even more of a hurry than usual, arriving only minutes before she would've been late, and she showed up to _wonderful_ news. This venue had a major water leak that had rendered the dressing rooms unusable. The show must go on, however, and she rolled her eyes when Derek started to demand a separate room for her to change. "It doesn't matter, the boys have seen me in underwear before," she said, cutting him off. "We've changed in the _van_ before, sharing the green room isn't that big a deal."

Derek scowled, and Kala rolled her eyes, whipping her t-shirt off as she walked past him. The venue manager looked about ready to fall over in shock, despite the fact that she was wearing a tank top underneath, and her band of boys just laughed as they all piled into the green room. There was no time for conversation, the opening act was having issues, and KLK needed to be on stage as soon as possible. Kala paid no attention to the boys stripping down, just like they didn't so much as glance at her shrugging clothes off and shimmying into costume.

Then it was out and under the lights, calling out a welcome to the crowd and hearing them roar her name. She sang with all of her heart, and scrambled through the three costume changes that the boys didn't have to deal with. The timing on the dance moves was still _off_, to Kala's mind, though no one else had complained yet. She still felt Sebast's absence like a ghost on the stage, even after weeks of being the sole singer. No, it had been more than a month now, and she was just counting down until their holiday break, trying to survive the tour schedule instead of reveling in it.

The crowd used to be a giant battery, juicing her up just like the sun, but now the polarity was reversed. Kala felt so drained that she almost stumbled coming off the stage at the end of the last set. Ned grabbed her shoulders as she tottered, and she leaned against him, wanting to sob. If she closed her eyes in the middle of certain songs, she could _feel_ Sebast's arms around her, hear his voice joined to her own in perfect peerless harmony, and _God_ she missed him so much. This job had always been _work_ in ways most people understood, but when Sebast was here it was _fun_. It was almost a game. Now … now she felt like Sisyphus rolling the boulder uphill every night, never quite cresting the top, and having to start all over from the bottom in each new city.

"Kala, you all right?" Ned asked her, and she looked up at him. Earnest, goofy Ned, who looked the part of his Skellington nickname but who was the walking definition of Southern charm once you got to know him. Her throat closed at the concern in his eyes, and Kala just nodded. Ned set her back on her feet, and she made it the rest of the way to the green room gratefully.

Insulated from the crowd, Kala stripped off her boots first and let them fall with a thud. For once, she'd let the roadies handle things, she was _exhausted_. At least she was off tomorrow. Kala was moving slowly, not caring about the other three in the room, just peeling her sweat-soaked costume off to exchange it for comfy clothes.

"Holy _shit_," Robb said, sounding startled, almost scared. Kala looked up, and saw him staring at her with a horrified expression. "Kala, what _happened_?"

She turned to the mirror, and saw her reflection. Standing in her bra and panties, the huge bruise on her belly was a livid yellow-green against her pale skin. For a moment, Kala blinked at it, not remembering.

No, wait. Last night she'd gone on patrol with Jay, trying to blow off steam after he'd spent so much time making sure the kids were situated. He was nervous as hell for them all, patrolling the neighborhoods where they were going to stay, and a night of simply beating up muggers and dealers had been the only way for him to relax.

The point was, she'd gotten in too late for a sunbath. Kala had fallen into the hotel bed like a stone, and slept so heavily she'd almost been late to the venue – Derek had even left without her, not realizing she was still in her room. He'd at least gotten used to her going wherever she pleased once she wasn't on the tour's time. But the point was, she'd forgotten to open the room's drapes, so she hadn't soaked up any sunlight since patrol.

And the body armor had done its job, so had her invulnerability, but Kala wasn't _quite_ invulnerable enough to walk away from a car crash unscathed. Especially not when she was the one the car had crashed into. She'd caught the stolen vehicle with her hands first, but had underestimated its speed, and ended up taking the front grill to her gut in a stunning impact before she could push back and bring it to a halt. It had hurt, at the time, and Jay had looked at her worriedly. Other than some soreness, she hadn't felt too injured, and patrol was the only thing that felt _right_ outside of Jay's bedroom these days. She hadn't wanted to stop to check the damage. It wasn't permanent, so they kept on.

Now they were all looking at her, Morgan giving a low whistle of surprise, and Ned flinching. Kala looked at their horrified faces, and thought for one wild second about telling them the truth. _Oh, that? I was stopping a carjacking and got hit by a Buick. It's fine. Anything short of a tank isn't a problem, it'll be gone by tomorrow._ Kala laughed, a little crazily, at the look _that_ would get her.

"Are you okay?" Morgan asked, stepping closer.

"Guys, it's fine," she said, still laughing. And concocting a cover story as quickly as she could. Bullshit on short notice wasn't her forte, so she used as much truth as she could. "I'm dating my martial arts instructor, remember? Sparring looks worse than it is."

"Sparring?" Robb squeaked.

"And he, what, kicks you? In the gut?!" Ned demanded. From the sour look on his face, Ned had definite opinions on the kind of man who'd hit a woman.

Kala sighed and rolled her eyes. "_Guys_. He's my _trainer_. I didn't get a blue belt for polishing my nails. I've kicked his ass, he's kicked mine, that's what sparring is."

"That looks really bad, though," Morgan said, still worried.

Kala laughed. "You should see _him_. He's kicked me in the belly, I've kicked him in the balls. He's punched me in the face, I've broken his nose. He's choked me out, and I've bounced him off a wall. All's fair in love and war, and we're a rather active couple."

"You sure you know which one this is?" Ned said.

Robb added, "You know you're on tour, right? Like if you show up with a black eye, Derek'll have an aneurysm."

"Ice and makeup will take care of a black eye," Kala said coldly. "Derek's half the reason I need the stress relief of fighting. He can kiss my ass."

Morgan moved toward her, still frowning. "Wait, did you say he _choked you out_?"

"_Dude._" Robb's voice dropped an octave as he ran that sentence back through his mind. God, these sheltered boys!

Kala fought for patience. "Look, if he went easy on me – if he let me win – I'd kick his ass even harder. That's part of being trainer and student. I wouldn't respect him if he didn't play for keeps."

"_That's_ playing?! He choked you out!" Ned exclaimed.

"Yeah, that's playing. You should see what we could do if we _weren't_ playing. He's good at this, you guys. Where he comes from, it's not a game." Kala looked at them all solemnly, thinking that as much as she loved them, they wouldn't last ten minutes in the Bowery.

"You're not from there, though," Robb pointed out. "Also, you're his _girlfriend_ and he's beating the crap outta you?"

"Trust me, the smack-down is mutual," Kala said with a smirk. "Shit, he wasn't even interested in me until I broke his nose. He thought I was just some dumb pretty little thing who shouldn't be let off the leash in big, bad Gotham. I showed him otherwise real quick." And all the while, she remembered that if this – the cover story she'd thought would mollify them – was freaking them out, no _way_ could they handle the truth. Jay hadn't done this to her, a _car_ had, and the thug driving it wouldn't have stopped if she'd gone under the wheels. They didn't have the slightest clue what she _really_ did when she wasn't answering her phone.

Ned rubbed his face with a heavy sigh. "Kala … if this guy was hitting you for real, you'd tell us, right? 'Cause we'd beat the shit outta him, no matter what color belt he has."

She snorted a laugh. "No, I wouldn't, but you're sweet. If he was hitting me for real I'd put his ass in the hospital, no help needed. You think for one second I'd put up with that bullshit? Not fuckin' likely. You've _met_ my mom." And even as she said it, she thought of Harley, who was a damn good fighter on her own but who had always let Joker beat her down.

Until recently. Every cornered animal turns to bite, eventually. She let her smile show more teeth than usual, the hard bright grin that some of Gotham's slimiest saw from the Blur. "It's fine, guys. I zigged when I should've zagged, that's all. And trust me, it looks much worse than it is. I don't even feel it."

"I always knew you were hardcore, but _damn_," Robb finally said, impressed.

Ned just shook his head. "I wouldn't date someone who punched me in the face, but hey, you do you. As long as you're happy."

"I am," Kala said, and despite the long hours and sleepless nights, the exhaustion and the injuries, despite the way she had to sneak around, she _was_ happy.

…

Dick checked his phone when he came in from patrol, and saw that he had a voicemail. From Donna. He sighed, and decided to listen to it after he had a shower and something to eat. Tonight's patrol had left him feeling wrung out.

At least, on the way to shower, he remembered to sweep his uniform off dramatically and do a little bump and grind routine in his underwear, just in case Babs was watching. The thought of her laughing at him lightened his mood considerably, and by the time he was showered and pouring a bowl of cereal, he felt good enough to listen to Donna's voicemail. He pressed play while getting the milk from the fridge.

"Your brother is an _asshole_," she began, and Dick almost dropped the milk. Donna rarely swore, and when she did, he paid attention. "He's also _right_, I think, and I hate that more than all the trolling I put up with to drag some explanations out of him. I was wrong about Kala. I owe her an apology, but now I have to figure out how to give it to her without – what was Jay's oh-so-charming phrase? Oh, yes. How to give it to her without getting _yeeted into the sun_. I didn't know _yeet_ was a word. It sounds like the past tense should be _yote_. At least this time they created a new word instead of changing what one means. _Slay_ doesn't mean fashion where I come from. And even if I'm stuck in a desert I won't be able to complain about being _thirsty_ anymore."

Dick laughed, shaking his head. They usually left each long voicemails, the modern-day equivalent of letters from a friend, and Donna's sense of humor never failed to charm him.

She continued, "Anyway, call me when you get in. Yes, even if it's late. Yes, even if you think I'm asleep. Jay and I … we thrashed some things out, and you know there's stuff connected to that time period that still gives me chills. It's not Jay's fault, but talking about the past with him just brings all of it up. And you know, hearing your voice makes things better. Might even keep the nightmares away."

A pause, and Donna sighed. "I'd say try not to do anything too dangerous tonight, but one, by the time you get this you'll be home again. And two, dangerous is what we do. Call me, Dick. Love you."

He saved the voicemail – at some point he'd have to sample her line calling Jay an asshole and possibly use it as the notification sound for messages from Jay – and idly spun the phone on top of the table. That had gone quite a bit better than expected. If Donna could patch things up with Kala, even better.

After all, Donna usually came to visit over Christmas.

Smiling at the thought, Dick picked up the phone to call her back and get all the details.

…

Heat, stuffy closeness, immobility, pain – oh, pain calling in from everywhere, like a radio station clearing all its lines before a big giveaway and then reopening, a ring here from the ribs and then the hands ringing in, old dull aches and new sharp pains, and then the whole switchboard lights up, _hello agony calling!_, bright and hard and fierce all through his face, his head thundering with pain, a maddening shrill buzz in his ears, even his eyes hurt, _pain pain __**pain**__ all through him…_

He tries to twist against the pain, tries to groan around the violation of the tube down his throat, scraping his larynx, pushing air into him, and he tries to fight it all but nothing works, and then noise resolves into voices and then

hush

wait

something cool in his arm, in his veins, blooming warm and lazy like a summer evening with the wind blowing just right, taking away the stink of Gotham, softly, quietly, he drifts away.

Some time later, hours or minutes, he wakes again. There's pain, but there's also the blissful dreamy floating feeling that he recognizes from previous hospital visits: good old morphine. Sweet dreams are made of this, who is he to disagree?

He's had morphine before, usually after a run-in with Batsy. It's gonna be hell, if they've got him on an IV drip of straight-up morphine. That Goth goody-two-shoes must've really banged him up this time. Another body cast. Maybe the Bat will sign it this time – he never has before, and that just hurts, you know? Friends should always sign your cast.

Wait.

Not Batsy.

He has to chase each thought, each fragmented memory, down and corner it, capture it, pin it down and drop it into a big glass jar of cognition. The scattered fragments flutter away from him, maddeningly slow, but his pursuit is slow too. The drugs do that, and the haze of pain that the drugs exist to blanket.

When he has them all at last, he sees the truth and begins to tremble with rage. As much as he can, in his present trussed-up state. Not Batsy. _Harley_.

He shakes and shivers, teeth grinding, sharp new pain in his jaw, his cheek, something tearing, a nurse comes in and hits the morphine pump and he slides away again, wafted off into dreamland with an extra dose of drugs.

Dreaming of Harley, sweet Harley, cotton-candy pink and baby blue, aww what a sweetheart, he'd like to carve her heart out and eat in front of her, red and dripping. No, too quick, too garish. The Vikings supposedly did something nifty, removing ribs and laying out the lungs like wings, yes, that's it, his Harley turned into an angel, wings pink and glistening as she gasps to breathe and can't with her lungs on the wrong side of her skin. That's nice, an image to fall asleep to.

Time passed. Joker woke again, and this time he knew who he was, where he was, and why he was there. This time the shock of betrayal didn't send him into a frothing rage. He remembered his dream of Harley as a bloody angel and thought at first that he did that to her – but no, not yet, it was just a dream.

A prophetic dream. He would make sure of it.

With the vent tube out, he could concentrate; it was hard to think with some clunky piece of plastic rammed down his throat. He was wise enough to sham sleep, and experienced enough at this that not even a brisk sternal rub would get a reaction. Joker knew how to play this game, and he had to keep them all thinking he was one step above a turnip that could bleed, while actually marshaling his strength for the inevitable escape.

His mind roved back over the memories he gathered, examining the unfortunate circumstances that landed him here.

He miscalculated, that was all. Harley existed to be his sidekick, and the _kick_ part of that wasn't an accident. She grounded him, absorbing excess voltage that might fry his brains; she supported him, holding up under his heels. She wasn't really real, the way most people weren't real, just walk-ons in the great chaotic open-air theater of life, but Harley had a recurring role. He _favored_ her with that, and look what she did to him.

Shooting the mutt was a mistake. Even the greatest artists made mistakes occasionally. Botticelli's Venus had swollen feet and a swan's neck; a thousand years of paintings and sculptures showed Moses with horns thanks to Saint Jerome's poor translation skills; and even Michelangelo's David was missing a certain muscle in his shoulder, thanks to a flaw in the marble.

Michelangelo couldn't carve or paint women to save his life, either, they all looked like his body-builder models with bad boob jobs, but that was beside the point. His masterpiece David was flawed _because the marble was flawed_. No help for that. And Joker's own masterpieces were flawed because he too started with flawed materials.

The zombie bird? Ah, no matter what you did to him, he _still_ found a way to believe in hope and justice and _love_. So cute. He was basically a Cocker Spaniel with opposable thumbs and a few more neuroses. Useless. The kid couldn't learn, he was stuck in the same mentality old Batsy had ground into him. Flawed material.

And Harley, oh Harley, she was his David. So damn close to perfect, except for that teeny-weeny little imperfection. That she could love something, anything, more than him, that was her tragic weakness. She really did love those hyenas. God, a cheap joke, _laughing _hyenas as pets. Ugly beasts, with no sense of comedic timing, but they'd been useful in their way. He'd let himself see Harley as better than she was, and in trying to pare away all the useless parts and make her perfect, he'd accidentally cut too deep.

Now she was marred. Defective. He could use her maybe one last time, fold her up and discard her once he was done.

First, though, he had to get her back.

Actually, _first_ he had to get out of the hospital.

Hell was an itchy nose, and both hands bound in plaster.

Joker found he couldn't even turn his head; when he tried, points of pain pressed dully into his temples. Not his first skull fracture, he recognized external fixation pins. So his head was locked into a halo that kept his neck and head carefully aligned. They weren't sure of his spine, maybe, and that wasn't too much of a surprise.

Joker lay still, and burrowed down deep in his own mind to get away from the pain and the itch and the nagging boredom. The last was the worst, not being able to _do_ anything, knowing he couldn't even have a bit of fun with the nurses or the police guards that had to be stationed outside his room. For an escape to work, he had to pretend to be comatose as long as possible.

Luckily he healed quickly. Hell, if he hadn't, if he'd been the kind of person to languish in long, miserable convalescence, he'd never get anything done! Batsy certainly sent him to the hospital enough. Even Dead Hood had done his fair share.

But Harley had booked him in this time. He had to get Harley.

She could only be one of two places: back in Arkham, or with the veggie. Harley hadn't had an original thought in her head since she'd graduated, so he didn't worry about her haring off somewhere. It all depended on how bad he'd hurt her (not that badly, he suspected, she taken him completely by surprise) and how kooky she was when it was over. If the mutt lived, she'd be with dear Pammy, who could be relied upon for tender nursing care. At least, as long as she only had to care for plants, dumb broads, and dumber animals.

If the hyena was dead – and Joker was a pretty good shot, that had to be the likeliest outcome – Harley had probably gone off the rails and landed back in Arkham. That'd be best, he could find her there most easily. Breaking her out was relatively easy, too.

If she was with good old _Dr. Isley_, well, things could get hairy. Joker's memories of the fight were still fragmented, but it had been something. There'd been a chair smashed over his head, and a lot of punching and kicking and yelling. Not the usual freaked-out flailing he'd mostly broken her of trying, either. A real determined assault. As the damn skull fracture attested.

Not even Harley – who seemed determined to believe everything he told her even when it directly contradicted what he was doing at the same moment – would believe he'd come back wanting to apologize, kiss and make up, after she'd done all _that_.

So simply showing up on the doorstep with roses wasn't an option. And if Queen Green was gonna make a serious move on his girl, now would be the time to do it. He could just imagine all the crap Pammy was spouting to her. Half of it ripped right off the queer feminist pamphlets she'd undoubtedly passed out back in college. She'd be quoting the statistics on domestic violence and trying to dramatize shooting the hyena as some Major Turning Point. Which was ridiculous, he was the one who _got_ the damn things for her, technically they were his hyenas too. And Joker never let anything of his bite the hand that fed it.

Not more than once, anyway.

So he'd have to pretend to be mad at her, and then pretend to reconcile. A real soap opera, pull out all the stops, maybe break out some tears. Oh, yeah, that'd be perfect, play the martyr, tell her she deserved better, that he'd leave her alone but he just wanted to apologize. Sniffle some trite crap about how she was the only one who'd ever understood him, but he'd destroyed that, just like he destroyed everything. Real breakthrough kinda stuff.

Harley would eat it up like her own hyenas crunching away at marrow bones. The clinician in her couldn't resist, she'd want to support him, work with him, even if she didn't want to be with him. He could reel her in with that, make her think her original goal from way back when was finally coming close to fruition, and then _wham_, once he had her trust he could explain to her, patiently and carefully over several days, why it was a bad idea to betray him.

If the hyena had lived, he'd feed the thing to her before he was done. One limb at a time, so she could watch it whimper while he poured pureed hyena hams down an NG tube just like the one he could feel running from his own nose, down the back of his throat, to his belly. He'd show her why defying him was a very bad idea indeed.

The room door opened, and Joker retreated further into the simulacrum of sleep. He sensed, as if from a distance, a nurse moving around the bed, fiddling with monitors, then felt the tube in his nose slightly jostled, the oxygen mask over his face moved for a moment. Checking everything assiduously, what a real Florence Nightingale this one was, and Joker lay limp and unresponsive throughout.

"Lucky bastard," the nurse muttered under her breath. Resentfully.

So she hated him. Most ordinary people did. Sheep probably hated the shepherds that sheared them and stole away their lambs, but they were _sheep_. They were made to be fleeced, eaten, used up somehow. Given their 'freedom' they'd just get eaten by wolves or coyotes, or run their stupid selves over a cliff panicking from thunder. Joker couldn't pity them. They weren't quite real enough, just like people, a sea of stupid stunned faces with no more comprehension of what he really was than a sheep had of nuclear physics.

He could respect the nurse's professionalism despite the venom in her voice. Dedication, he always admired dedication, most people weren't willing to follow through on _anything_ these days. Not even the dead bird could commit to an aesthetic! He'd given up killing for a pretty girl.

Joker could've told him, the _best_ girls liked you better when you killed. They all liked danger, some of them were just better at pretending they didn't.

The nurse gave him another injection, not morphine this time, but he felt the cool rush of fluid in the IV. Antibiotics, maybe. Joker let his eyes slide partially open, just in time to catch a glimpse of green scrubs and brown hair. He might let that one live, when it came time to break out.

He'd endured enough from other nurses. Some of them took a special delight in having the city's most feared villain supposedly helpless under their hands. One middle-aged woman had spat in his face, but otherwise taken decent care of him; an enterprising young man had 'forgotten' the anesthetic during a procedure, leaving Joker only paralyzed while wounds were debrided. What a laugh that was! He'd had many laughs, later on, once he escaped from Arkham and tracked down that so-thoughtful young fellow. Of course, as a health care professional the nurse kept himself in excellent condition, so to really give him the empathetic experience Joker had needed to injure him first, let the wounds get nicely infected, _then_ show him how debridement felt without even an ibuprofen to dull the pain.

He was a strong, healthy young man. He'd lasted almost two weeks. In retrospect, treating the runaway gangrene with household bleach _probably_ wasn't a medically sound decision. But it'd been fun! And educational!

For Joker, anyway.

The current nurse left the room, left him alone, and Joker set his mind back to work on his main problem: how to settle the score with Harley. No matter what she did or how amusing she was, he couldn't let this stand. The rest of Gotham's masked community would never let him live it down. No, Harley had to pay, and it had to be something _big_.

His head ached – not surprising, given the whole skull fracture and probable brain surgery – and Joker found that he couldn't concentrate very well. Never mind, he expected those symptoms to abate soon. Maybe by tomorrow. Not once did he imagine that he'd have any serious, lasting injuries. Joker never doubted that he would return to perfect health, no matter what happened to him.

After all, he'd made a deal.


	14. Just to Swallow Up the Flame Like Me

**Authors' Note:** This week is coauthor Lois' birthday. Given that she works retail shipping and it's the holiday season, she's requesting large quantities of alcohol for her birthday. That's not very practical over the internet, though, so feel free to drop a 'happy bday' note in the review box. We appreciate all of you.

Some widely separated threads are being spun together in the next two or three chapters. We'll see what pattern they make ... or if the whole loom ends up on fire, which frankly is how things tend to go when you mix Bats and Supers.

* * *

Just an ordinary Tuesday night in Gotham … which for Jay meant busting a jewelry store robbery in progress, assisted by Nightwing. Baby Bird was off doing Titans stuff this evening, and Jay decided what the hell, he'd fill in. Even this kind of small-potatoes crap was at least honest work. And running with Dickie-Bird was fun.

It surprised him to realize that he didn't look forward to working solo. Kala had gone and spoiled him, that was all. Jay spent years relying only on himself, watching his own back, and a few months of really well balanced teamwork – plus close air support with some heavy-duty firepower – had seriously upped his standards. Weird, to find himself actually _wanting_ teamwork.

Babs had given them the coordinates for the alarm, and he and Dick made short work of the four robbers. "That was almost too easy," Dick said, leaning the last man against their own getaway car.

Of course, right then was the moment a bullet shattered the glass of the car window, and they both had to dive for cover right beside their cowering, cussing captives. Jay added a few choice words of his own. "Dammit, Wing, never say shit like that! It tempts fate!"

"What's _this_?" Dick asked, peeking around the corner of the bumper.

Jay, in the bulletproof helmet, popped his head up for a second to peer through the crazed glass. The car parked in the street was a big, sturdy sedan … painted half black, half white. "Shit, it's Dent's boys," he said.

One of the trussed jewel thieves started kicking the guy closest to him. "You said they didn't pay up to Two-Face! You said it was safe!"

"Ow! They didn't pay up last week!" the other guy cried.

Jay smacked both of them, and lobbed a flash-bang at the car. "Shut up, you assholes, at least since we're here tonight, you get to live. Now be quiet and let Daddy work."

"Since when Two-Face is running protection rackets this far uptown?" Dick said, readying his sticks. The flash-bang grenade went off, momentarily blinding the goons in the car, and he and Jay both rushed out to deal with them.

Not that hard, these were recent recruits, without much real training. They were street-smart, trusting in weapons, and once Jay had kicked the gun out of the first one's grip and broken the wrist of the second, it was pretty much over for them. Dick got his two, the electrified escrima sticks working like stun-guns to immobilize them. It was all over in minutes, Jay taking an opportunity to put his boot in for the kids' sake. Dick frowned about it, but said nothing – he'd heard about the whole situation.

As they secured the scene and heard sirens approaching, Jay said, "We ought to think about throwing Harvey in jail, too. He's gonna be gunning for me shortly."

Dick nodded as they both shot grapnels to the nearest roof to wait for the police. "B is gathering intel. We've got to get enough evidence, or catch him red-handed. Dent knows the system too well, and he can afford good lawyers."

"Shithead," Jay grumbled. "He's the one who was after that pack of kids I was protecting. We've got them taken care of, but he'll have to do something about me or lose face. That won't end well for him."

Sighing, Dick sat down on the parapet. They needed to keep an eye on this one until the cops arrived, in case Dent had sent more reinforcements. "I swear sometimes it's like playing whack-a-mole with the criminals. Every time we knock one down, another pops up."

Jay sat beside him. "See, you shoulda let me kill Mask and Joker and take over as Gotham's kingpin. I coulda knocked down every one of them that came after me."

Dick glanced at him, scowling, but saw Jay's smirk and just scoffed. "Yeah, that'd all be great until all the mob families got together and ponied up enough cash to afford Deadshot or Deathstroke to take you out."

That gave him a few seconds pause. "Huh. I wonder what the going rate is for a hit on me. Gotta be expensive, people know I'm Bat-trained."

"Only you would take that calmly," Dick said. And then, with a snort of laughter, "You've got Talia's number, call her and ask."

Jay scoffed at that. "Yeah, right, she probably killed that number two minutes after the last time I called. We didn't exactly hang up on good terms, Dickie-Bird."

"Yeah, well, I can't help but be glad about that. I'm much happier with you completely out of her orbit. You know I can't stand Talia, never could. Even so, I'm guess we have to thank her for you being alive." Dick leaned forward a little, seeing a splash of red and blue lights further up the street. "I'm also _very_ glad she didn't get a chance to figure out what K is or why she was at the Manor."

"Me too," Jay said, his back prickling at the thought. Ra's al Ghul and his daughter were Bat-problems who could quickly become _everyone's_ problems. The thought of them knowing anything about the Supers, having any inkling about the kind of power and knowledge stored in the Fortress of Solitude, damn near gave him hives.

"You were pretty freaked out, that day," Dick mused. "You were still kinda iffy about K then, but you went right into protective mode. Something you need to talk about with your lost years?"

For a moment, Jay thought about telling Dick the whole truth. Coming back, plotting to kill Batman, training as an assassin, falling into bed with Talia, finding the file that damn near made him kill _her_ … but no. Not Dick. He'd go completely bonkers, drag Jay to the nearest shrink to get his head examined. And probably rant and rave until Bruce overheard something damning. Which, Jay had a vested interest in Bruce _not_ finding out that particular little detail. He might be in bed with Selina on any given night, but if Bruce found out about Jay and Talia, he'd go ballistic, even worse than Dick.

Kala knew. That was enough. "It doesn't have anything to do with my time in murder college," Jay said easily. "Do _you_ want Ra's to have any idea there are half-Kryptonian kids running around? Best case scenario, he decides to wipe out the Supers before they can breed more. Worst case, he decides he wants an heir with powers."

Dick actually choked at that. "Oh God, I'm gonna hurl! Jay, why would even say that?! Eww!"

"Trust me, I wanna puke too," he said, giving a shudder of horror. "I _know_ Superman, too, remember? I don't think Talia would be down for that either, but you know Daddy tends to get what Daddy wants. The good news is, Ra's is probably too xenophobic for that. He doesn't care about aliens as long as they stay out of his way."

Still wincing, Dick looked down at the street below, where the cops were trussing up Dent's men and the jewel thieves. "Thank you for that horrifying mental image. I need brain bleach now. I have to think of something cute, like puppies."

It was Jay's turn to snort. "Puppies. When I need brain bleach, I think of K in that fancy dress I bought her. Cuter than a fruit bat at the zoo."

Dick laughed. "Yeah, you won that one. The two of you are pretty damn cute."

"Knock it off, I'm not down with that saccharine shit," Jay replied immediately. Never mind that he'd just called K cute – being sarcastic about it, but still. What he couldn't stand was the implication that he and Kala _together_ were cute. There was nothing cutesy about him, nothing cutesy about their relationship either.

Instead of shying off the topic, Dick turned to look at him with a serious expression. "Jay … get real for a minute, would you?"

"I'm the realest thing in this town, D," Jay shot back, bristling.

And then he said it, of course he did, Dick loved everyone, he probably even told _Bruce_ he loved him, and The Night probably didn't explode into a thousand socially-awkward bats when he did. Dick looked squarely at Jay and said, "You don't have to be a highly-trained detective to see that you and K are in love."

Jay's gut roiled, and he fought the urge to punch Dick right in his pretty face. Dick must've seen the change in his body language, because he tensed a little in alarm. But Jay didn't swing, because Dick couldn't fathom a world in which _love_ was dangerous. "Listen to me very carefully, Nightwing," he ground out through clenched teeth. "There's a goddamn reason I don't use that word. And I don't want anyone else using it about me, either."

"I know you think you're too tough…" Dick began.

"Oh fuck off, I'm not that dumb," Jay spat.

"Then what is it?" Dick asked. "Help me understand here, Jay, you're making a big deal out of something that doesn't have to be."

He wouldn't let go, that was the thing. Dick was a bulldog when he thought he could help somebody. Never mind whether they wanted his help, or not. So Jay growled, "Every time I think it might apply, the other person royally fucks me over, starting with my shitty excuse for a bio mom and running right up to now. So shut your fucking mouth, or I'll shut it for you, okay? You are _not_ jinxing this for me when something's finally going _right_ in my life. I won't _kill_ you, but I'll damn sure put a bullet scar in that perfect butt of yours. Try telling your revolving-door of women it's another dimple."

Dick paused, thoughtful. "Threats and compliments? You're deflecting _hard_, Jaybird. Do you really believe saying it will jinx things? I didn't realize you were so superstitious."

"Dude, I came back from being damn near _dead_. I'm only able to _talk_ and remember my own goddamn name because of a fucking Lazarus Pit that healed catastrophic fucking _brain damage_. Oh, and fixed a bunch of other shit wrong with me, too, I never would've been this tall or this broad with all the times I went hungry as a kid. That same Pit is why one of our biggest bad guys is still fucking around with the world despite being like seven hundred years old, and having _died_ a couple dozen times. And you're calling me _superstitious_? Fuck off, D."

"Okay, okay, that's fair," Dick said, backpedaling from his vehemence. "Still…"

"You don't get it," Jay snapped. "It's better to show that than tell it. Every time, once it gets said, everything goes to hell."

For a moment, he really thought Dick would just leave it alone. His brows were furrowed under the Nightwing domino, and he looked like he'd happily punch whoever had hurt Jay. But then he asked, "Jay … what really happened with Troia, for you to be like this?"

And of course, he laughed, remembering the cops ten stories below at the last minute and stifling it just enough. No _way_ was he gonna tell Dick about Donna. There couldn't be a worse way to find out your best friend had a long-standing desperately-hidden crush on you. Plus, he wouldn't do that to Donna. She had her issues, but it was the Todd luck that had screwed them over. She hadn't hurt him on purpose. And he'd hurt her, too.

"Get real, D. You think Troia was the first woman I ever slept with or something?" he retorted, trying to lead him off the mark.

Dick just frowned. "I didn't think it got that deep with Ravager."

Jay laughed; this was turning into a rehash of his conversation with Donna. At least it meant that Donna hadn't turned around and told Dick everything. It did bother him, a _lot_, that suddenly everyone was nosing around in his love life and prodding around in the past. It felt like everyone wanted to be his shrink, and Jay had zero interest in that.

Besides, Rose ghosting him had stung a little, but Rose hadn't let it get that deep. She was just as shy of being burned as he was. With her father, he wasn't surprised. Safer not to care about anyone that much. To Dick, he said, "It wasn't, and Ravager wasn't the first either. Dude, there's whole years of my life you know nothing about."

Of course, that still didn't put him off. "Someone in the League of Shadows? Please tell me you didn't fall in love with Cheshire or something, she's got a thing for heroes. And she really did a number on Arsenal's head."

_Shit, shit, __**shit**__!_ Jay's spine turned to ice at the realization of how close he was to giving away the exact thing he didn't want Dick to know. Too many parallels, too many secrets, and he had to switch it up quick. "Hell no, not Chesh, I never even met her. For all you know it coulda been a civilian. Doesn't have to be a woman, either. You're not the only bisexual in the Batcave, bro."

Dick stared at him for a moment, and then said in a quiet voice. "Oh no. It wasn't _me_, was it?"

Jay blinked; he hadn't realized that Dick actually _knew_ about the stupid schoolboy crush. Never mind the little hints here and there, that was just Dick being comforting. Not to mention, Dick had never betrayed him, but of course he'd think it was _his_ fault that Jay was allergic to the L-word. He was as bad as Bruce for guilt. It was all so absurd, Jay threw his head back and laughed out loud.

Immediately the cops below swung their flashlights up, and Dick muttered something in Romany as they both dove away from the edge. Jay couldn't stop laughing even as they ran to the next roof, jumped over, and made a hard turn. At least the climb to the next roof needed enough oxygen that he had to stop snickering like an idiot.

It figured he'd end up talking to Dick about this now. Once they got stopped again, he turned with a shrug. "Okay, sorry, I didn't mean to laugh in your face. It's just … one, you never did anything out of line at all. I never even thought you knew. And two, that wasn't anything serious. It was just a puppy crush."

"Okay," Dick said, smiling a little ruefully. "I just … I knew, and I also knew it was a bad idea for a lot of reasons, starting with how young you were and mostly being how crazy my life always is. Also I think B would've had an aneurysm."

"B could've gotten over it," Jay said, shaking his head. "I had a lot of crushes on a lot of people, as a kid. Classic street kid, wanting to belong to something. You wouldn't have been a bad choice."

Dick shrugged. "I'm not exactly great at relationships either. I mean, I really deep-sixed that with Oracle, and messed things up with Starfire in the process. I've blown up almost every relationship I've been in. The only thing that lasts is family."

"And that's why B would freak out. He sees us both as his sons. He'd have to learn to play the banjo." He shrugged again. Awkward as this was, it was better than the conversation had been aimed to begin with. "I never saw you as a brother, more brother in arms. Hell, I never had brothers or sisters or anything. I get why you call it family – hell, I do it too – but it was different with you. Kinda like you never saw O as a sister."

"Oh, I knew exactly how I saw O the day I met her," Dick admitted. "She hit me like all of puberty all at once."

Jay grinned at him then. "Yeah, she kinda hit me the same way. O is still trouble, I just know now I can't handle anyone that much smarter than me."

"I'm gonna tell K you said that," Dick teased.

Jay cuffed at his shoulder. "Don't be an ass. I bet K thinks the same thing of O. God bless Canary, she's the only one with the courage."

And in his ear, he heard an amused digital voice say, "Considering that Blur flirted with me within fifteen minutes of meeting me? I'm sure. At least she was a lot smoother than offering me the top bunk."

"I was thirteen, O, I didn't have time to learn smooth," Jay laughed.

Dick had heard that too, and rolled his eyes. "At least I had the sense to keep my mouth shut."

"Yes, you did," Babs agreed. "You were unsubtle in your own way, though. I know perfectly well that wasn't a Batarang jammed against my leg when we were locked in that safe together."

Jay couldn't help himself, he clutched his sides and wheezed at the expression on Dick's face. "You know what, I had a gorgeous redhead in my lap practically. I don't think there's any man who wouldn't rise to the occasion, then or now."

"I'll take that as the compliment it is," Babs laughed at both of them. "Now get back to work – and lay off the personal info in the field, children."

"We didn't have our comms on, and there's no one else up here," Jay complained, but he understood her point. If someone _had_ been listening, that was a lot of juicy gossip.

"The comms are always on," Dick said, waggling his eyebrows. "Mother has to keep an eye and an ear on her children. Mother knows best."

"Keep calling me Mother, I'll make _you_ buy the banjo," Babs retorted, and Jay started snickering again. "Seriously, though. You boys need to have your heart-to-hearts at the bunker or the Roost or something, please. You did call each other by nicknames that have your real names in them."

Jay thought back over the conversation, and winced. He'd said 'Dickie-Bird' first, but Dick had come back with 'Jaybird'. "Yeah, okay, point taken. Not like we get a lot of quality time anywhere else, y'know."

"So make time. It's what family does." Babs signed off then, and Dick shook his head.

"We'll have plenty of quality time over the holidays," Dick said with a slight smile. "You _are_ coming for Thanksgiving, right? Because I think Alfred might have you kidnapped and taped to a chair if you don't show."

"Dude, and miss the whole Manor spread? Roast turkey, fried turkey, honey-baked ham, twelve side dishes, and four or five pies? Fuck yeah, I'll be there. If you hadn't invited me, I'd crash. No matter what the family drama is, I have no shame when it comes to the sideboard." Jay's stomach grumbled at the mere thought of it.

"Oh, he's doing pumpkin cheesecake now, too," Dick chuckled. "I heard through R that Superboy and Blur are gonna be out of state for Thanksgiving. It'll be just us, unless she can make it over in time for coffee."

Jay thought about that; he and Kala hadn't even talked about it yet. They still had a couple weeks before Thanksgiving. But he hadn't needed to plan around holidays for four years, so he wasn't used to giving it any thought. The League of Shadows was strictly secular, and his wandering after that had been so disjointed that he only noticed holidays when restaurants were either closed, or packed. Coming _home_ again, for the kind of spread Alfred put on, made his chest ache with yearning.

At last, he sighed. "Much as it would be good if K was there, she's about worn out with running back and forth. Let her have the day with her family. We'll save her a plate. Unless, of course, she decides otherwise."

Dick smiled at him. "You're a good egg, Jay. I guess we can miss out on having her for Thanksgiving. Alfred invited her for Christmas."

Jay couldn't help it, his eyes bugging out a little. "He _what_? Jesus fuck on a silver platter, he didn't even ask me! Oh God, did he ask _B_?!"

"I doubt it," Dick chortled. "I imagine he's gonna work it so that B thinks he's the one who gave the invitation. Now come on, don't get squirrelly. Let's go find some more trouble to get into, okay?"

He shook his head at the blatant manipulation. "Yeah, sure, drop a bomb like that on me. Let's go find someone's ass to kick. Dent needs to learn to stay the fuck outta this neighborhood."

…

Other than the ticking of a clock and two sets of breath, the room was quiet. Talia stifled a yawn, her eyelids heavy; she would have liked to simply fall asleep where she lay. Lassitude warmed her to the very marrow, as good lovemaking often did, but she couldn't sleep. Her own bed was two rooms away.

She sat up, and Adem's arm around her waist tightened briefly. Talia looked at her lieutenant in the dark, just enough light filtering in to show her his sleepily satisfied expression. "You could stay," he murmured, and he _sounded_ drowsy.

He wouldn't be her lieutenant if he was this careless, though, and Talia shook her head. "I think not."

Adem let her go, and Talia stood up unselfconsciously, retrieving her clothes. He had seen her body in better light than this, knew her curves as well as her scars, but still his gaze lingered on her. "You could, though. You choose not to."

Talia didn't pause, dressing with casual ease. "I am too well-trained an assassin to sleep with someone else in the room," she lied. It was easy to do so; she'd only ever let herself sleep beside one man, and he was thousands of miles away. Likely with a Cat snuggled up to him. There was one other she might have trusted so deeply, but Talia had been wary by then of letting anyone into her heart, knowing her love for a weakness. And so she had lost Jay, too, by never showing him how much he truly meant.

She heard Adem reach for something on the nightstand as she fastened her slacks, and ever alert for treachery, Talia reached for her own gun casually. He was only getting a cigarette, though, and she buckled the revolver around her hips as his lighter scratched a flame to life, and he drew in smoke. Adem looked at her in the red light of the cigarette's ember, and said quietly, "You don't trust me."

That was partly true. She trusted him more than anyone else currently in Libya, and she let herself enjoy his attentions more than she probably should have. He was not a cure for her loneliness, but he kept it at bay for a little while. And bedding him kept him more loyal to her than to her father. At least for now. That did not mean she trusted him completely. She'd learned her lesson on that score years before, when his predecessor thought to use his privileged position to blackmail her.

So she kept her voice warm, almost affectionate, as she replied, "If I didn't trust you, Adem, you'd be dead." And Talia smiled as she shrugged into her blouse, not bothering with the bra.

As expected, his eyes followed her breasts, and the threat of death only darkened his gaze with lust. Some men found danger attractive, and Talia knew Adem was of that ilk. The deadlier she was, the more he desired her. _Men._

He took another drag off the cigarette, resting his other arm behind his head. "True. We are very useful to each other, aren't we? And you need me here, in this nest of serpents that might or might not be loyal to your father."

Talia chuckled, and sat down beside him on the rumpled sheet. "Let's be honest, shall we? My father likes to think he is an inspired leader, but most of these men are loyal only to their own best interests. They'll follow anyone who seems likely to win. Right now they think Shiva has the upper hand, and half of them are ready to venerate her as a goddess. They'll swing right back into line once we resume control of the compound, and remove the obvious dissenters."

"And what do you think I'm loyal to?" Adem asked, with genuine curiosity in his gaze.

A dangerous question, that. Talia plucked the cigarette from his hand, held it aside, and leaned down to kiss him. She closed her eyes to do it, not seeing Adem in her mind's eye; the taste of menthol and tobacco on his lips helped. At the sudden passion in her kiss, his hand caught her hip with reawakening desire.

Talia pulled away, smiling down at him. "_Your_ own best interests, of course. You worship neither gods nor demons, Adem. But you know I'll look out for you, as long as you keep my trust. You _also _know that if you betray me, I'll cut your throat without an instant's hesitation."

Men always had trouble thinking when they were aroused, and he blinked at her for a second. Then he relaxed into a lazy grin. "You're ruthless … but I like that about you."

"Good," Talia said, and stole a drag from the cigarette before handing it back to him. "I'm giving some thought to sending you to Shiva as my inside agent. Do you think you can convince her that you're dissatisfied in my service? I'd rather not have her take suspicion, and kill you."

"You'd miss me if she did," he said, almost gloating. "Maybe a second or two of hesitation, after all."

Talia smiled indulgently, as she once had at a younger man whose pride was sweeter to see. "Perhaps. Don't make me prove it, hmm?"

"No," he said, his voice husky, the hand on her hip drifting down to the curve of her thigh. "I can fool Shiva. She's arrogant – that makes it easier. I'll tell her I'm tired of playing you and your father against one another. That should be easy enough to sell."

Talia touched his face lightly, keeping her own expression fond and gentle even as a whisper of disquiet spoke in her chest. "We are rather a burden, aren't we? I can almost pity anyone caught up in our endless games of chess."

"The perks are worth it," Adem told her, and his eyes brightened with the humor even as he squeezed her thigh. She felt safe then, until he spoke again, more seriously. "You ought to think about getting out, though. Ra's al Ghul will never let you do as you please."

Her hand slipped down to his throat. "Your predecessor's chief mistake was telling me what I should or should not do," she informed him. "Pray don't follow in his footsteps, Adem. You're _much_ too useful to waste."

"Advice isn't an order," he told her, appropriately chastened, and Talia caught his hand, lifting it from her thigh so she could rise. But she kissed his knuckles, and pressed her cheek against his palm, as if he meant far more to her than he did.

"Until the morning," she told him softly, and left the room, keeping her expression fond all the way to the door. Only once it was closed behind her did she let the mask fall.

Getting out – as if it were that easy. There was really only one place she could go, and then she'd have to face the possibility of being turned away. She couldn't even blame them. Anywhere Talia went, her father would follow, and Ra's al Ghul would stop at nothing to bring his favorite child back into the fold. Somewhere way down in the depths of her soul, Talia howled at the unfairness of it.

The surface of her mind didn't even hear the cries of anguish. That part of her – the part that remembered being cherished by her father, before she'd grown old enough to have much will of her own – had been wailing fruitlessly for a long time.

Even if she could somehow flee, what of Damian? He was too young to go on the run. And she could not leave him with his grandfather. Talia could barely force herself to leave his side even for missions like this; it would break her heart to leave him forever. Besides, if she parted from Ra's … he would use Damian to bring her back. In whatever manner would be most effective. She knew that, even as she knew that _she_ could never do such a thing. If she ran, she'd have to bring him, and Damian might slow her down fatally. There was the option of taking him to his father, but that could get extremely complicated.

No, she would never be able to get out. All she could do was make the best of the situation. And try to keep the people she loved safe from all harm.

She stepped into her room, closed the door behind her, and bowed her head where no one could see her. Talia's life was a series of impossible choices, and only the thought that her father's ultimate goals were the greater good of the entire _planet_ kept her on course.

Still, it was hard to love a planet. Much easier to love a small boy who had inherited her fondness for drawing, and who despite rigorous training still believed that no _real_ harm could come to him. His faith in her, and in Ra's, was still unshaken.

As long as Talia had any say in the matter, that last shred of innocence would prevail.

Sighing, she leaned back against the door. Enough maudlin mental wandering. She had to plan an assault on one of the most heavily fortified compounds the League of Shadows maintained. It had many natural defenses, but its crucial weakness was in its staff – which Shiva had already exploited. To turn them back would not be difficult. It would only require sufficient bloodshed and a show of strength.

Talia chuckled dryly. She knew very well how to pretend strength she did not feel. She'd had a lifetime of practice.

…

Kala slapped her buzzing phone and groaned. It was too early … but if she wanted to take advantage of the hotel's breakfast buffet, she had to crawl out of bed and get down there in the next half hour. Sleep … or crispy bacon, greek yogurt, and the selection of fresh fruit you only got in California? Food won.

She brushed her hair, put on the minimum amount of makeup to avoid being asked if she was sick, and got dressed, opting for jeans and a concert t-shirt. The boys had been mollified by her semi-truthful explanation of the bruises on her belly, but they were all watching her closely now. Even a little thing like going to breakfast bare-faced would have them asking after her solicitously. She should've been touched by their concern, but frankly, it was just another pain in the ass right now.

Kala left the curtains open through all of it, soaking up as much sun as she could. She missed her mornings with her father, but between the tour schedule and her nights in Gotham, she didn't even wake up at sunrise anymore.

The holidays were coming, they had a good long break, and then just a few more months 'til it was over. Back to the garage and the studio, back to a less-hectic life, and the _next_ tour schedule wasn't going to be anywhere near this insane.

Suddenly she realized that the garage jam sessions were gonna be awkward as hell. _Sebast was still in the house._ They might be able to patch things up somehow, but living together? That was gonna be painful. And she couldn't ask him to leave, he'd put down half the money for the place and paid half the bills. He might just ask _her_ to leave; both of them had their parents' homes to go back to.

Groaning, Kala rode the elevator down, resolving to deal with _that_ later. Right now she just wanted lots of coffee and some food. She was focused on nothing more important than that … until she stepped off the elevator, and heard Robb give a nervous chuckle.

Robb was pretty chill about anything except promotional stuff, usually. The thing that made him _really_ anxious was talking to women. In his own mind, he was much heavier than his actual weight, and he tended to assume that women dismissed him as a fat loser. Add that to some impostor syndrome, thinking he wasn't really a rock star despite the band's sales figures, and you got a great recipe for awkwardness, especially around women in the industry. Kala would've cheerfully slapped any woman who put him down like that, even though he wasn't her own type. He was a good guy, and one of her boys besides; he deserved better.

So she bristled, and zeroed in on the sound of his voice, head up and boot-heels striking the tile sharply. _No one_ messed with her boys – Jay had been right, the mama bear gene certainly did breed true.

Kala found Robb standing by the breakfast area in an awkward semi-cringe, and the woman in front of him was certainly gorgeous enough to make any of the guys stammer. Tall – Kala's own height, or maybe an inch more – with long perfectly blonde hair, and the kind of hourglass figure that only came from hours in the gym or elective surgery. She had a sweet face, though, big blue eyes and a charming smile. Kala noticed her outfit – heels, skirt, a chic blouse – and her makeup – the kind of subtle application that took plenty of practice to achieve – and figured her for some kind of PR hack. She looked like she was all about appearances, shallow and vain. The only odd detail was a small wrapped package she was carrying. Kala paid it no mind; she swept in knowing that _she_ looked like some kind of angry Goth stereotype. And not caring.

Robb looked around at the sound of her boots, as did the blonde. His eyes went wide at the sight of Kala, but the woman looked frightened for a second, then miserable. Still, she didn't flee, and Robb stepped in front of her, throwing both hands out at Kala in a _stop_ gesture. "Whoa, whoa, stand down, Kala," he said hurriedly. "It's all good, this is Jennifer, she's cool, I just didn't expect to see her already. Don't break out the blue belt, just … relax and have some coffee, okay?"

Kala stopped, blinking. And the blonde raised one hand in a tiny wave. "Hi," she said, sounding just as timid and awkward as Robb. "You must be Robb's boss. Nice to meet you?"

That made her laugh. This was absolutely _not_ what she had expected to walk into. She'd read the situation completely wrong, and Jay would've torn her a new one for being so far off target. Poor girl, too, this was a hell of a reception. "I'm not his boss. I just work here, too. I'm sorry, Jennifer, I didn't mean to come out on the warpath like that. Sometimes we get people from other labels trying to cause trouble – I haven't had coffee yet and couldn't think of another reason why anyone would be dressed so well this early in the morning. I'm Kala, leader of this band of yahoos. Nice to finally meet you." Only now did she remember Robb talking about meeting his long-distance girlfriend in California. Chagrined, Kala held her hand out, and gave her a welcoming smile.

Jennifer blushed a little at the compliment. "Thanks! It's no problem, I should've called first and everything, but I was so excited to finally meet Robb." She glanced at him when she said it, and her eyes brightened. Meanwhile he blushed and fidgeted.

_Oh God, they've both got it so bad,_ Kala thought, unaware how many people had thought the same looking at her and Jay. "You get to meet the whole crazy crew, looks like."

Ned chose that moment to stroll over with a plate of bacon and eggs. "Don't mind Kala. She's just overprotective. I'm Ned, by the way."

"Ah, but you guys like me that way, Skellington," Kala retorted, smirking as Ned returned the gesture.

Morgan had followed him, and Jennifer shook each of their hands while Kala hurried off to get some coffee and breakfast. Her boys might very well eat it all, if she wasn't quick. The rest of them took over the biggest table, and as Kala joined them, Robb was opening his gift. "I would've gotten you something, if I'd known," he was telling Jennifer, smiling shyly.

"It's okay, I just saw it and thought of you," she replied. Her eyes were really expressive, brimming over with joy and something else. Kala slid in between Morgan and Ned, studying her unobtrusively, and decided that her initial impression was way wrong. In Jennifer's industry, she had to pay careful attention to appearances, but that didn't mean it was all she cared about. By the way she behaved around the band, the blonde simply wanted very badly to be _liked_. That eagerness to please reminded Kala of quite a few people she knew – and she'd seen the same look in the mirror. Didn't everyone want to be well-regarded?

The gift was a coffee mug, and on the side was a version of the evolution of humans stock image, starting from the silhouette of an ape-like ancestor through Australopithecus to modern man. The last, and therefore most highly evolved, silhouette was of a man playing a guitar. Robb beamed at it, and turned delighted eyes on Jennifer. "That's _awesome_!" he told her. "Where'd you find something like this?"

She blushed, and told him the name of the shop, and Kala just sat back to watch the two of them being incredibly cute together. It was nice to see something wholesome and drama-free, and she let herself bask in the high-octane happiness.

Derek came down after a while, and Kala glared at him. If he said one rude word to Jennifer, she'd shut him down right here in public. Let TMZ air _that_. Never mind anything Marlene had said about giving him a chance, she remembered how he'd acted when he found out what Jennifer did for a living.

He glanced at Kala, and she narrowed her eyes. _Try me, bitch. Just try me._ Wisely, Derek didn't, getting a bagel and sitting down with the rest. "You must be Jennifer," he said. Stiff, but not outright asinine, and from him that was practically a miracle.

Jennifer smiled at him too, and good God, she had _dimples_. "Yes, I'm sorry I came out early, I just couldn't wait to meet Robb. I hope I haven't messed anything up."

Something about her seemed to strike a chord of courtesy in Derek, and he actually smiled back. "No, it's no problem. You actually got everyone up and moving in record time. That's a plus, in this business."

Jennifer demurred, "I think that was the breakfast buffet, not me."

"Nah, we can eat half-asleep," Morgan said. "We woke up for conversation."

"It's always nice to have someone new to tell all the crazy road-stories to," Ned added.

"Oh no, come on, we're not doing that," Robb cut in hastily. "Jennifer, they exaggerate. Don't believe anything they tell you."

That got all of them chuckling. "Oh, come on, Robb," Morgan wheedled. "Don't you wanna tell her about the time we all drove two hours in the wrong direction because Ned's map got wet and the ink bled through?"

Kala rolled her eyes. "You guys have to get some new stories. You tell the same ones to everybody."

"Perks of being on the road," Ned replied. "People don't know your whole history. How about that car you and … yeah, the car you were driving, starting out? Thing's primary color was Bond-O."

_That car you and Sebast were driving,_ he'd started to say, and shifted gears mid-sentence. Kala's last mouthful of deliciously silky yogurt suddenly felt like glue. She swallowed anyway, soldiering on, "Look, my brother and I bought that car with our very own money. So it looked like crap. Dustin helped us get her running, and after we covered all the rust-holes in Bond-O, we got a couple friends in visual art at Stalmaster to paint her up."

"We're talking like a 1990 Buick Century here," Robb said, getting into the spirit of the thing. "Big square boxy thing, with the trippiest graffiti you ever saw painted up the sides. Godzilla on the hood, Mothra on the trunk. And even after she bought her brother out and it was her car, she kept it like that."

"I loved that car," Kala protested. "She got us from Metropolis to Los Angeles and back. She'd still be running now if she hadn't thrown a piston clear through the hood trying to come up I-70 in Colorado. It would've cost more than the whole car was worth to rebuild the engine, even with Dustin coming out to work on it and doing the labor ourselves."

"You work on cars?" Jennifer asked, eyebrows going up.

Kala grinned; nothing better in the world than defying expectation. It was practically her birthright. "Oh yeah. My mom never wanted me to be helpless, stuck on the side of the road with a flat tire or a busted serpentine belt."

"Neither did my dad," Jennifer replied. "He had a '64 Impala he was restoring when I was growing up. I started out handing him wrenches, but by the time I was in high school he was letting me put parts in because I could reach places he couldn't."

"Dustin – that's Kala's ex, the mechanic – had her doing that when were in Kansas last time," Robb chuckled. "Real smooth. 'Oh hey, you've got little hands, get this bolt off for me please?' And of course she did."

"Which how I met his current girlfriend with engine grease all over my arm," Kala said dryly. "She's cool, though."

"That's good for her. You didn't have to chase her out of town like the last one," Ned replied.

"That bitch from Possum Trot shouldn't have tried using him for his money," Kala growled.

Jennifer cocked her head, and smiled. "You're kind of a spitfire, aren't you?"

She was going to protest – as long as no one messed with people she cared about, Kala didn't go looking for trouble, at least not in her civilian identity – but Morgan cut in. "Oh hell yeah she is," he told Jennifer. "She's a blue belt in something I can't pronounce. A couple weeks ago she taught us all how to get out of chokeholds."

"Guys," Kala protested, laughing.

Ned just leaned in. "She can throw _me_ on the floor like I'm not eight inches taller. Right now she's dating her martial arts instructor, and they beat the crap outta each other all the time."

"Okay, guys, that's enough," Kala said. She gave Jennifer a helpless shrug. "Yeah, all right, I've got a blue belt in seido juku. My trainer taught me some taekwondo and hapkido, plus some street-fighting stuff. It's great for keeping in shape, and I don't have to worry about creepy people after shows."

"I did taekwondo, too," Jennifer said, brightening. "It was more fun than zumba. Sounds like you're a little more serious, though."

"Well, sometimes it comes in handy," Kala admitted.

If only they knew how hard she really trained, and how she used it. For a brief, mad moment brought on by sudden changes of perception and lack of coffee, Kala let herself imagine what would happen if anyone at the table knew they were sitting with the Blur, Gotham's newest crime-fighter. Or that the Blur wasn't some random metahuman, she was actually Superman's daughter, and she had no intention of booking a plane ticket to get to Smallville for Thanksgiving.

That was an amusing mental picture, for a few minutes – Jennifer probably did the wide-eyed with amazement thing very well – until Kala thought about the rest of it. If anyone at this table knew she could cave in a roof, that her eyes lit up with heat-vision when she was angry, that she had an alter ego ready and willing to do _whatever_ was necessary to protect herself and her friends…

Yeah, it was a very good thing she had Jay in her life. He knew her, all of her, and he liked her just the way she was, flaws and all. Of the rest, not even her own family knew the shadow in her mind as well as Jay did. And no one would stare down that darkness like Jay, fearless because he knew the feel of the blood on his hands the same way she did. He knew how easy it would be to solve things that way, until killing became the only tool he remembered how to use, and he dreaded that road as much as Kala did.

She made herself smile, and keep up the lighthearted conversation, but a thread of unease still ran through her. Despite being among close friends and coworkers whom she regarded as a kind of family, Kala still felt just the tiniest bit alone.


	15. I Made Myself a Promise

Kala was getting ready for rehearsal, putting the last touches on her makeup, when she heard something that caught her attention. Rehearsal makeup wasn't too complicated, she just had to have enough eyeliner and shadow that the boys wouldn't worry about her. A few years of stage and concert makeup meant that her bare face looked, well, too bare.

She couldn't quite identify the noise that had interrupted her, and stopped to listen more carefully. Morgan was next door, humming under his breath as he brushed his teeth. Ned was in the same room, in the shower. And Robb…

Robb was in the other room, hitching in a breath like he was trying not to cry. While Derek spoke to him like he was some kind of misbehaving child, her keen ears catching the end of a sentence: "… absolutely ridiculous, of course you can't!"

Kala got to her feet, throwing on a blouse over her tank top, and stormed out of the room. She didn't care that no one without her super-hearing could've possibly overheard the argument. Hotel walls were thin, everyone knew that. And she didn't intend to let them wonder for long how she even knew there was a problem. Her intervention would be dramatic enough to sweep all minor concerns aside.

She didn't even have to pound on the door. All of their key-cards worked in all the rooms, that made it easier when they all grouped up in one place and left water bottles or phones or jackets in each other's rooms. She trusted her band, anyway, and they trusted her.

Just like Robb needed to be able to trust her to ride to his rescue, and she was _done_ with Derek's bullshit. Of all of them, Robb needed a self-esteem boost the most, and he had the least defense against this kind of bullying. Kala flung the door open, and from the hall she heard Derek tell him, "You think you love her but you don't really _know_ her, you only met her in person a week ago, and you can live with someone for years and not _really_ know who they are completely. This is insane, you're not in love with some porn star, you're just in love with who you think she is!"

And that was just about enough, as far as she was concerned. It was _far_ past time to do something about this. "Okay, you can shut the fuck up right now," Kala growled, stalking up to Derek with her eyes blazing. Of course he'd corner Robb alone, of all of them, the one who was a deep-down marshmallow despite outward appearances. "This doesn't really have anything to do with him and you know it, Derek. You leave him the hell alone, he can date anyone he damn well wants, and you don't get any say in it. Period, end of story. Now get the fuck out, this damn minute; I am not fucking playing with you, Derek."

Just as she expected, Derek turned on her instead of her bassist, but he wouldn't drop the topic. "_You_ shut the hell up," he snapped. "Of course _you'd_ let him run around getting photographed with this whore, as if we don't have an image to protect…"

The look on Robb's face hurt, the unexpected lashing-out had him out of sorts, his expression disbelieving even as he bristled. "She's _not_ a _whore_!"

That tore it for Kala. Temper red-lining, she knew it would only be a matter of time before this would become more than words if it kept escalating. "And I wouldn't change what I'm saying if she _was_!" Kala yelled, fighting for restraint. _This asshole right here… _ "Get _out_, Derek, you leave him be!"

"Look, this is a man-to-man conversation and you don't have any part in it," Derek said, rolling his eyes at her. The dismissive tone, and the absolute bullshit he was spinning, already had her struggling for control. Lois Lane's daughter had no patience for this kind of old-school misogynist nonsense.

And then Derek put his hands on her shoulders, trying to turn her around and make her walk away. Huge mistake, as Jay would have cheerfully warned him.

Kala reacted as she'd been trained to, her hands coming up inside Derek's arms and slapping outward, knocking his grip loose. That could've been the end of it, _should've_ been the end of it, but he'd hurt Robb. _He'd hurt one of her boys._ She was tired, she was barely holding herself and the band together, and with a punishing tour schedule like this, all of them deserved whatever happiness they could find. Jennifer made Robb happy, and that was the only thing that mattered to Kala. There had been far too little happiness so far on this, their name-making tour. None of them had ever seen Robb quite as comfortable and energetic as he had been the last few days. Kala had watched the light that had built there since Jennifer arrived start to gutter out as Derek railed. That absolutely would not do. Derek was _not _going to run Jennifer off and ruin this for Robb, not after what happened with Sebast.

She was mad at Derek for being a small-minded little prick, for trying to cut off this chance at love, and she was outraged at him for that half-stifled sob she'd heard. Absolutely over the top _furious_.

It was fury, and her mother's temper, that led her to act, but it was Jay's training she used to do it.

Kala grabbed Derek's wrist, yanked him toward her, and turned her body into his sharply. He went flying over her hip, and her hold on his forearm flipped him over so he landed flat on his back with a thoroughly satisfying _thump_.

"Holy shit," Robb whispered.

Kala turned to Derek, seeing the shock on his face as he stared up at her, and she didn't care anymore who heard her. Her voice came out in a roar that did credit to her back-of-the-arena projection skills. "Now, for the last fucking time, get the fuck off my bus! Your ass is _fired_, Derek, hit the road. How _dare_ you lay into Robb, but how could you be fucking _stupid_ enough to lay hands on _me_! I've been warning you for months; that's it, I'm done! Out! Get out, _right now_!"

Without another word, he scrambled to his feet and bolted from the room, looking genuinely terrified. "Uh, Kala, can you do that?" Robb asked, wincing.

For an instant, there was a jolt of panic, but Kala pushed it to the side; no, she'd done what was right, for she and her boys, and refused to acknowledge the brief chill of unease. "I believe I just did," she said icily. "Give me your phone."

Ned and Morgan piled into the room, full of questions, just in time for Kala to reach their agent on Robb's phone. "Hi Jenna. I have news. Derek's out, period."

"What do you mean?" she asked, sounding chipper as always.

God, was she getting sick of salesmen. "What I said. I mean I'm fucking _done with him_," she shot back, still seething. "He started in on Robb's girlfriend, and when I told him to lay off, the motherfucker put his hands on me. Do you understand? He _put_ his fucking _hands_ on me. He's goddamn lucky I didn't break his arm. His ass is _gone_, do you hear me? Get us someone else."

A beat of silence, and then Jenna continued nervously, "Now Kala…"

That was enough to initiate what the boys had jokingly always called DEFCON-DIVA. Placating her right now was a foolish, foolish move; after so long, Jenna ought to have known better. "Don't you fucking _now Kala_ me, Jenna, I am _through_. I've been telling you since this tour started that Derek was driving us all crazy. He's part of the reason why Sebast walked. So now you either get me another manager, or _I'm_ walking. And I'm taking my boys with me. Can you sing, Jenna? 'Cause you might have to make my tour dates."

"Oh _shit_," Morgan whispered. All the same, he didn't try to talk her down – neither did Ned or Robb.

That gave truth to everything she was saying; the boys were more than capable of trying to stop her from playing her hand. Not one dissenter. Yeah, it was done for all of them. Kala knew she sounded like a high-riding bitch, but she didn't care anymore. Mom was right, sometimes you had to be the bitch to get results, and she was _through_ letting Derek walk all over her and her boys.

Jenna's tone was suddenly very professional. "You'd be in breach of contract."

Kala had just enough control to stifle her snort of laughter. That changed the tune as quickly as she figured. Now to gamble as high as she dared. It was time for a stand. "Fuck the contract. I have enough money to hire lawyers to drag out the suit until even the label ends up bleeding. I don't _want_ to quit, Jenna, but I will _not_ work for this sanctimonious asshole. None of you would listen to me, now here we are. Either he goes, or I do. That's it."

"Listen, Kala, we don't _have_ a manager available," Jenna began.

"Then I'll do it my fucking self. I've done it before; I ran this group long before we had 'handlers' or any of that. We'll keep going, keep making appearances, showing up for concert dates. But Jenna? If I see his face again, we're getting on a plane to Metropolis. Do you understand me?" Rage pulsed in her temples, and part of Kala _wanted_ Jenna to call her bluff. _Try me. Just fucking try me. See what you get. The label thinks they can scare me? I've fought people that would leave __**all**__ of you hiding under your desks and pissing yourself. __**Try me.**_

Some of that must have been in her tone, because Jenna replied, "All right, Derek's off the tour. I'll speak to him. You've only got a handful more dates before your holiday break. After that, we should have a manager available. Until then, be aware that if you or any of the band members fail to be on time for a show, the label will probably pursue a breach of contract case."

She had expected as much from the moment she got on the phone. It was about time they realized that Kala Lane-Kent would not be pushed around and frightened by a bunch of lazy, spoiled middle-aged executives who had no idea what it took to be their meal-ticket. "Fine by me," Kala said coldly.

"All right, we'll talk to you soon," Jenna replied, and hung up.

Kala snapped the phone shut, and turned to the three boys. Now for the good news and the bad news. "Okay, listen up," she said. "Derek's out. And _I'm_ the manager. We know how this works: if we fuck up, they come down on us like the wrath of god. If we can keep our shit together until New Year's, we're golden – we'll get a new manager who _isn't_ a giant bag of dicks that walks like a man. Got it?"

All of them blinked, and then Morgan said dryly, "I love what this boyfriend's done for your vocabulary."

Despite the situation, Kala found herself giving them all a wolfish grin. It would all work out; she would _make_ it work out. Anything had to be better than the last few months. "If we're late to anything, you'll hear my mom's driving words plus all of his favorite swears – and he can curse in about six languages. That I know of. We are _not_ going to screw this up. Is that clear?"

It would work. There was no other choice. This would be a turning-point; this would maybe change the equilibrium for the better. Maybe they would all be able to breathe again. They just had to get to the holidays and take a rest. They would make it. They would, like they always had. She'd make sure of that. All the while, somewhere deep in the back of her mind, Kala thought to herself, _I lost Sebast. I'm not losing the whole band._

…

The keys to a successful bank robbery in Gotham City were very simple: one, move _fast_, get in and out before GCPD or Batman could respond, and two, get rid of all incriminating evidence as quickly as possible. Sadly, the cash itself was incriminating, especially when Batman knew where you lived. Selina kept expecting him to show up in her living room, hunting for a suitcase full of bills. While she'd kept as much plausible deniability as possible – she hadn't worn her suit, opting for the classic ski mask and hooded jacket – he probably knew it had been her. So he was probably watching her bank account, too. That made the second half was a little more difficult than the first.

They'd pulled off the heist easily enough, sliding in minutes before closing, with Ivy taking out the security guards. Harley had cornered the manager and both tellers, and Selina had gone for the vault. They'd timed it just right; the vault was on a time delay, but the manager just wanted to go home after a long day, so he'd started the opening sequence before the branch actually closed. The three women had cleaned out the vault, and since Selina had scouted well in advance and knew which branches were likely to be cash-heavy, they'd cleared almost a million dollars.

All three of them already _had_ some money, of course, and nine hundred grand split three ways only amounted to only three hundred grand each. The job was more about the fun of getting away with it than the actual cash, though if Harley and Ivy decided to leave town, it'd cover their moving expenses nicely.

The problem they had now, however, was that large amounts of cash were noticeable, and Batman was _definitely_ sniffing around the case. Selina didn't think it was high on his list of priorities, not yet anyway, with Joker and all. Anyway the longstanding rule of their relationship was that he didn't pester her about anything he couldn't prove. Harley had worn a mask too, but Ivy's participation meant the two of them were implicated anyway. Oh well, she'd deal with that when and if she had to.

The funds needed to be laundered, and Harley didn't trust any of Joker's people for that. She could've, if she'd really wanted to, taken over his organization. She and Selina and Ivy had talked about that possibility on the first night they planned the robbery, bouncing ideas back and forth until Selina realized she'd eaten three of the delicious cinnamon buns and was going to regret the sugar rush later. Ultimately, it wasn't something Harley wanted to do. Let Joker's gang run wild, or get caught up by someone else. It would be too easy for one of them to turn on her, trying to make himself the new boss by taking out the person who'd put Joker in the hospital.

Selina had mob contacts, but their rates were ruinous; no family discount for her anymore. She decided to try negotiating with someone else, and made a few calls just to be sure she knew where she stood. No sense going in blind. The girls were willing to let her negotiate for them, too, and Selina knew better than to screw them over. Hell, she might leave them a little more than their share. Christmas was just over a month away, call it a gift. She still hoped the pair of them would run away and live happily ever after together, even if she'd miss them both.

They couldn't go with her this trip, too many people were probably hunting for Harley, and besides Selina figured she could make the arrangements more easily if she went solo. After contemplating the contents of her closet, trying on and rejecting a dozen outfits, she ultimately picked a slinky dark green silk pantsuit, wore her hair down, and went dramatic with the makeup.

Then hired a limo to take her to the Iceberg Lounge.

The main room at the Iceberg was open to the public, and it did a brisk business among tourists and Gothamites alike. Nothing serious ever went down out there, though. The chief tourist attractions were the enormous saltwater pool, and the ice bar, a separate room where the temperature was twenty-five degrees. Everything in there, the bar, the sculptures, even the seats were carved from ice. It had a separate cover charge and a time limit so no one actually got frostbite, but that just made the ice bar more alluring. A good gimmick, and one that made the rest of the lounge and dancefloor – kept at a chilly sixty degrees – seem warmer.

Selina bypassed the line, and flashed a smile to the bouncer. He nodded, and let her through. She ignored the main room, heading for a door in the back marked 'Private'. Another bouncer stood there, and this one actually stopped her. "Name?" he asked.

"Your boss knows me," she said, and tried to move past, but he caught her arm.

"Try that again, miss," he said, with a hint of warning in his tone.

Selina looked up at him, and her friendly smile faded. "This is the part where I usually just say, 'Meow', and then beat the crap out of whoever's in my way," she told him. "I'll cut you some slack, since you're obviously new. Just tell Oswald that an old friend stopped in, would you?"

With that she handed him back his discreet little stun gun, which she'd taken from his front pocket the moment he caught her arm, and then his wallet, his keys, his ivory-handled switchblade, and his money clip, all of which she'd lifted in a few moments of conversation. The guy looked dumbfounded, and Selina finally stepped past him into the Iceberg's private rooms. Almost a mirror image of the public side of the club, with a small stage, tables around a dance floor, and the bar at the back.

It was quieter, and colder, back here. No band playing tonight, and not quite as cold as the ice bar for the tourists, but in the low fifties. Cobblepot had always preferred the cold; it was part of why they called him Penguin. The chill meant that a night out for most of the high-profile bad boys and girls in Gotham typically included a coat and gloves, but hey, that was more opportunity for flashy high fashion. Selina herself had worn a cashmere wrap, and the silk pantsuit was warmer than it looked, too.

No one at the tables looked up as she walked by; everyone was here on their own business, and it was wiser not to pay too much attention to anyone else's. Still, Selina was peripherally aware of familiar faces, some from the big families, some who typically wore masks. At least one didn't bother, but she nodded to Harvey Dent in passing, and he gave her the same courtesy. He wasn't in her good books at the moment, after trying to round up the kids, but Cobblepot had a very strict rule about not fighting in his club. It'd been a couple years since one of the Maroni boys thought he was above the rules, and went after one of his rivals in the business. Last Selina heard, the knee replacement was working out nicely, but he still knew every time the weather changed by the pain in old breaks.

Selina picked a seat at the end of the bar, and smiled at the bartender when he glided over to her. "A southside, please," she told him, and he nodded. _He_ wasn't new, though Selina hadn't managed to get a word out of him yet, and he made her cocktail exactly as she liked it. Gin, lime juice, simple syrup, and muddled catnip instead of mint.

She got two sips into it before Cobblepot himself turned up. He stood across the bar from her; the floor on the bartender's side was slightly higher, and he could look her in the eye that way. "You shouldn't threaten the doorman, Selina," he said, as if in grave disappointment.

"I was in shock, Oswald. I thought for a moment you didn't want me around." Selina gave him the big sad eyes, what Harley had taken to calling her 'Puss in Boots' look, ever since that movie with the green ogre had come out.

It didn't work on Cobblepot. "Of course not. But it's not such a hardship to just tell the man who you are. He doesn't need your real name, just your nom de guerre."

"He figured it out," Selina said, and held out her hand. Cobblepot offered his, and she put the guard's phone into it. "I thought you didn't let them take calls on the job."

"I don't," he said, with the barest hint of a smile. "I used to worry they'd run deals behind my back, but now my biggest problem is keeping them from playing damned Candy Crush when they should be working."

Selina chuckled at that. "The world moves on, Oswald, and we move with it."

"Do we?" he asked. "Sounds like you pulled a very old-fashioned move, a night or two ago. Practically a smash-and-grab. Not really your caliber at all."

"I would never do such a thing," Selina protested. "I'm mostly retired, anyway. You shouldn't listen to rumors, Oswald." She sipped the drink, watching his eyes, hoping he'd glance down to watch her throat move. The emerald pendant she wore should've led his gaze further downward, and generally once a man was thinking about Selina's cleavage, he was much easier to manage.

No such luck with Oswald. Not tonight, anyway. He just smiled, and said, "My mistake, of course. You're practically a vigilante these days. Maybe I ought to start making you pay the cover charge."

"Is that any way to treat an old friend?" Selina asked sadly.

He grinned, showing perfectly white and even teeth. "There are no friends in our line of work, kitty-cat. You know that as well as I do. To survive in this town, you put business first, and don't let 'friends' tell you otherwise."

"Oh, come on," she said, reaching out to touch his forearm briefly. And _not_ lifting his watch when she did it. "If anyone in Gotham can afford to be friendly, it's you. Last I heard, the Iceberg is doing so well from the tourist trade, you could even pass an IRS audit."

Cobblepot scoffed slightly. "Maybe I could. Maybe information is a better trade to be in. I don't like jail, Selina. It's boring, the food's terrible, and it cuts into my profits, not being here to supervise things."

"Maybe we're all going legitimate," she mused, running her fingers along the rim of the cocktail glass. "It'd be one way to put the Bats out of business."

"The mob would pick up the difference," Cobblepot replied. "And your loverboy would implode, if he didn't have crime to fight. Enough, Selina, I know you're not here to reminisce about old times. What do you need?"

She sighed, dramatically, and gave him a winsome look. Cobblepot had always had a bit of a thing for her, just enough to be something of a soft spot in his usually flinty dealings with other rogues. And Selina had checked in with one of her contacts in the escort business; he still had a definite type, and it was still leggy blondes. Hence the pantsuit, and her hair spilling over her shoulders.

"What I _need_ is a bit of business help. What I _want_ is to work with a friend I can trust, and not these new-money mobsters who think they can scam me," Selina murmured. With that, she polished off her drink.

Ever the gentleman, he gestured to the bartender for another. "I pity anyone who tries to pull the wool over your eyes. I know how sharp your claws are. I suppose, for the greater good, I ought to at least hear you out." And even though Cobblepot was acting like he was doing her some kind of huge favor, Selina knew that he _loved_ being the central broker for information and money alike. It played into all of his conceits, having Gotham's wealthy and powerful fawning over his club as _the _nightspot, and at the same time having all the other rogues come to _him_ for help.

When the drink arrived, Selina gave him a hopeful smile. "Your office? I don't want to talk business out here."

"Of course," he told her.

Cobblepot had his hang-ups, and one was that he didn't like being reminded of his height. Even Selina was taller, and she walked half a pace behind him to his office, where she curled up in a chair instead of sitting on the desk as she might've with someone else.

He took his seat and looked at her shrewdly; Selina met his gaze levelly. She knew she was smart, but her greater strengths were intuition and adaptability. She wouldn't try to out-plot Penguin any more than she'd try to out-think Oracle. What she _could_ do, and did very well, was figure out what script he had in mind for this encounter … and change it up on him.

"How much money are we talking about?" Oswald asked.

"Almost a mil," Selina replied. Which, yes, made it clear she'd been involved in the bank robbery that was all over the news, but hell, what was he going to do? Sell that information to _Capespotting_?

"Right. I can get it back to you through legitimate streams in under a week, but to do that is going to cost me time, effort, and some of my own investment," Oswald replied.

Selina shrugged; that was business as usual. "Of course. What's your cut?"

"Fifty percent," he said.

"_Fifty?!_" Selina heard her own voice squeak. She'd thought he would start at thirty, and hoped to argue him down to fifteen! "Oswald, come on, how long have we known each other? No one in this town takes fifty, not even the Falcones!"

"You're hot right now, Selina," he pointed out. "And you're running with someone even hotter. The Bats are watching Harley – well, you probably know that better than I do. The mob's watching her, Joker's people are watching her, and Dent's watching her. You know, Dent's sitting out there in the lounge right now, wondering why you came to see me. Three women rob a bank together in this town, even if you painted Ivy we'd all know who it was. And there's a very large target on Harley's back."

All true, but Selina hadn't thought he'd let it stop him from doing business. "And you're scared of Dent now?" she challenged. "His goons beat up your boys in the street and you still let him drink here. What's Harv got on you?"

"He drinks here because he follows the rules and he pays well. What happens in the street is just business, too, even if the transactions aren't as elegant." Oswald shrugged, unbothered by the implication – which meant he really wasn't scared of Two-Face. "You can go to the mob, they'll give you better numbers, but they won't pay. You'll have to go wading into them and remind them why no one messes with you or the girls. And that'll draw attention you don't want. At least you know I'm honest."

"Fifty is still ridiculous," Selina said. "You're dealing with _me_, not Harley, and she's laying very low."

"Except for going out robbing banks. Granted, that's mid-profile, for Gotham. It's not high-profile here until the Bat-signal lights up. What worries me, Selina, is what she wants the money for. _I_ might get blamed for that one. Joker's still alive, you know, and word is he's going to recover. My money's on a complete recovery. He'll be up and walking by the first of December."

"Mine's on someone taking him out while he's still handcuffed to the hospital bed," Selina growled.

Oswald shook his head. "Joker's the only one who makes me believe in _luck_. No one's going to kill him in the hospital. And when he _does_ get out, he's going to want to make a rug out of Harley's skin."

"Yeah, well, I have a vested interest in not seeing that happen," Selina said, off-handed. "Not to mention, I doubt that's how it ends. Harley finally _woke up_, Oswald. If he does come after her, she'll tear him apart. The only reason she stopped that time was because getting Bud to the vet was more important than turning Joker into a greasy smear on the floor. And all of that discounts what _Ivy_ might do to him, now that she doesn't have to worry about Harley hating her for it."

He regarded her thoughtfully. "Sounds like you know more than the whispers going around."

"Of course I do. They're my friends." Selina saw what he meant to do, but she wanted _him_ to be the one to say it.

Oswald steepled his fingers, drawing it out, wanting _her_ to say it instead. Selina just looked at him, her eyes open and guileless while her mind spun behind it. At last, he said, "I'd be willing to knock a few points of that percentage for some solid details."

"You're asking me to betray a confidence," Selina said, looking wounded.

"Information benefits everyone. If she's willing to let you handle the money, she's got to understand that you'll have to manage the information, too." He looked back at her steadily.

With an air of great reluctance, Selina asked, "How much?"

"Ten percent. That makes my cut forty," Oswald said.

She winced. "God, Oswald, that's three hundred and sixty grand. That leaves less than two hundred apiece for us, and we're the ones who went out there and got it!"

"You could run it through your own contacts," he suggested, with a little smile. "I heard you had a business of your own. Dog training makes good money these days, just watch television."

Selina hissed, then got herself back under control. "I know who set that one up, and I've already gotten her back for it. How did _you_ know?"

"She used your real phone number," Oswald pointed out. "I keep an eye out for any _interesting_ news about my friends, Selina. You took the website down the same day it went up. Now what did you ever do to piss Talia al Ghul off _that_ much?"

"Mostly Batman," she replied. "You want details, I want another ten percent off."

He laughed then, but it was good-humored, not spiteful. "Selina, Selina. People forget how very mercenary you can be. You're a survivor, first and foremost. And you picked the right moniker, you always land on your feet. Information's better than money; it's one of the few things you can sell more than once. And it grows, if you let it, with a better interest rate than any bank."

"What information do you want?" Selina asked. "And what am I getting for it?"

He ticked off the points on his fingers. "I want the specifics of what Harley did to Joker, and why, for ten percent. I want to know how you managed to get the Daughter of the Demon to play _games_ like this website, but that's only worth five to me – it's a curiosity, not vital intel."

Which left her paying him thirty-five percent of almost a million dollars, and Selina had wanted to pay only fifteen percent. _We can't always get everything we want,_ she told herself, but it didn't fly. What would she tell the girls? That she hadn't been able to drive a bargain?

Still, she didn't jump to offer Oswald anything else, just raised an eyebrow, waiting. Selina knew some very dangerous secrets. And she might have an ace up her sleeve, too.

He regarded her thoughtfully, and as she expected, made an offer. "Now, I might be able to take another twenty-five percent off – and that's _cheap_, Selina, I'd have to ask you not to tell anyone I cut it that low. I'd do it for you, and only you, since we _have_ known each other so long, and you're awfully reliable for someone who claims to be such a free spirit. But I need something in return."

She changed tactics, simply by stopping the game. Selina sat forward, elbows on the table, looking at him the way she'd looked at the dons when she'd been running the Calabrese family. "You know I wouldn't brag about a bargain, Oswald, but you should also know there are some things I won't do. Not for money, not for love, not to save my own life."

"That's what I like about you. You have _principles_." He smiled, but Selina knew it wasn't praise for her character. Archimedes had once said something like, 'Give me a long enough lever and a fulcrum to place it on, and I shall move the world.' Cobblepot saw principles as a fulcrum, a fixed point around which he could use information as his lever.

He was very dangerous, in his way. It was hard to know what he already knew, and how he'd put it together with what she told him to make bigger conclusions than she intended. Selina just waited, patient as the proverbial cat at a mousehole, making _him_ name what he wanted instead of volunteering anything.

Oswald's eyes were bright. "We've got a new player in town this year. A new metahuman, and since when does the Bat give the nod to a meta? Not to mention, this Blur is running around with Red Hood. Since when does _he_ take a partner? And what does he want with a _meta_? He spent his time in the desert, after he came back from the dead, and his trainer's not a fan of metahumans either."

Shit, shit, _shit_. Selina knew who had trained Jay, too. Ever since he'd come back wearing the red helmet, since the DNA test proved that Red Hood was Jason Todd, Bruce had _known_ who it had to have been, and the knowledge tortured him. But she did _not_ want to give Oswald any further information about exactly which al Ghul it had been, or about the Blur, and that was his real target here.

So she shrugged, pretending ignorance. "You think I know anything useful about Blur? Funny, Ivy asked me the same thing."

"Ivy met Blur. And _Ivy_ ended up in Arkham. That makes the new girl even more interesting. There aren't that many who slip through Ivy's fingers. What do you know, Selina?" Oswald leaned forward too, his eyes agleam.

Twenty-five percent was almost a quarter of a million dollars. Selina sighed, feeling all the complicated ties of friendship and love and good common sense tugging her in different directions. At last she said quietly, "She's got more than speed. When someone she cares about is in danger, I don't know _what_ she'd do. As for why Hood wants her … I'm pretty sure he's seen her with the mask off. And everything else off, too." That wasn't really a secret, anyone who'd seen the two of them together for more than five minutes could figure out they were a couple.

"Hood fell in bed with a meta," Oswald mused. "I'm sure you know most men dream about something like that. Very few of them can handle it."

Selina nodded, thinking, _That's why you pay for yours. You know what they want from you, and it's all straightforward. No messy breakups, no entanglements, just a transaction satisfying for both parties. Can't say I blame you … but I'm as much a fool for love as Hood is, and I need more than a good lay._

When she didn't rise to that, he continued, "So what _is_ she? Blur can throw off Ivy's control, according to rumor she caved in a _roof_ on top of Harvey's boys when they were out recruiting, and we all know she's faster than almost anything. It's an impressive lineup, sure, but what _else_ has she got?"

Selina sighed and tipped her head back. "Oswald, you think Batman just _tells_ me things? Come on, he _knows_ who I hang out with. It's not like he's going to volunteer information."

"I wouldn't trust hearsay," he replied. "I don't want to know what the Bat told you, I want what _you_ know. You were _there_ when she brought the roof in. Looks like you've been looking after Hood's pack of strays, too."

She narrowed her eyes. "We have a common interest. Those kids are just _kids_. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Hood had no idea what to do with them, but he couldn't _leave_ them for someone like Harv to snatch up. He called on me because I owed him one. And I was happy to help out. So sue me, I don't like to see children getting hurt."

"I knew about the kids," Oswald said with a shrug. "That was you and Canary working with Hood. Once I knew you weren't running a junior vigilante training camp, it wasn't interesting. And no, before you think about sharpening your claws on my face, I didn't point Harvey at them. He stumbled across them all on his own."

Selina tapped her nails on his desk irritably. "Of course we weren't trying to turn them into vigilantes. Gotham doesn't need any more kids putting on capes – or masks – to deal with their shitty childhoods. Is it really that surprising that a bunch of social misfits would try to help out some kids, Oswald? There's no one in this town wearing a costume who's got both parents alive and sane."

He held up both hands. "Easy, Selina, I'm not one to judge. I've had the occasional philanthropic moment myself – leaves you feeling hungover, doesn't it, all that altruism? Like you need to punch someone to remember who you are."

She cut him a quick smile at that. "Can't let the do-gooders think I'm one of them."

"I bet Hood's having a bit of identity crisis, running around with the Bats and saving kids, when a few years ago he was ready to blow this town apart. Maybe he's just mellowed out." Oswald looked at her, and Selina realized that all of her attempts to distract him hadn't worked. "Besides, it's not the kids that concern me. Not Hood, either. I want to know what Blur is, so we can figure out how to deal with her. That's where _you_ come in, Selina. Gotham's one big balance beam, with the heroes on one end and us _villains_ on the other. And you, dancing along the center, tiptoeing from one side to the other."

That was entirely too accurate a description of how she felt about her role in Gotham. "I don't exactly do commitment, Oswald. And I don't like being labeled a villain, or a hero."

He continued patiently, "Of course not. But you know when you need to drop a hint, here and there, to keep your friends on both sides safe from each other. Blur's an unknown variable. In the interest of _everyone's_ safety, don't you think I should know what her deal is?"

Cobblepot sounded so very reasonable, but Selina knew what Kala was – and what her weaknesses were. If Oswald learned that, the price of kryptonite in Gotham would go through the roof. No matter what, more people would start carrying the stuff, and Kala would eventually get hurt.

Still, a quarter of a million dollars was nothing to sneeze at. And he was right, she'd given out tidbits of information before, to Batman and the other rogues. Trying to keep the balance, to keep her friends on both sides from getting hurt.

Selina sighed, and played a last gambit. "Times like this, I really start to think I should've slept with you, back in the day."

He chuckled … but there was that spark in his eye. "No woman alive is worth a quarter of a million dollars, Selina. That's politician's hush money, and there's no _man_ alive who wouldn't want the world to know about _you_. Old times' sake wouldn't get your money laundered for ten percent, either. Just information."

She'd known that wouldn't work, but it would distract him just enough to make her actual attempt successful. Selina frowned, biting her lip nervously, as if about to make a huge concession. "Listen, Oswald … just, promise they'll never find out it came from me?"

Cobblepot spread his hands magnanimously. "Have I ever given up a source? Selina, you wound me."

She nodded, and leaned in close. Cobblepot did the same. Selina whispered in his ear, knowing her breath was warm and faintly minty with the liquor, "I don't _know_ anything for certain. But with those powers, and the way she carries herself? Something about her just says _Amazon_, doesn't it?"

Oswald's avaricious eyes gleamed.

…

Amnesia turned out to be the best bet, for getting a decent standard of care and opening up possibilities of escape. So Joker pretended not to know who he was, or where he was. He gave the president's name confidently, only he said the one from two elections ago. All politicians were the same, anyway, a bunch of bad comedians telling the same washed-up jokes over and over again, the biggest of which was _'If elected, I promise to serve'_. Lining their pockets, every one, turning themselves into more gears in the political machine, and Joker had sometimes thought about getting involved in politics. His understanding of mob mentality could've come in handy.

But it would be too _boring_. And even he had limits. There were things too low for him to stoop to. Besides, playing well with others was an essential political skill, and one Joker had always lacked.

He was affable and courteous to all the doctors and nurses and everyone else with a string of letters after their names, he smiled and nodded and complied with every ridiculous request, and even so, most of them didn't thaw. They still regarded him with wary suspicion, and not once were the restraints left loose.

No matter. He only needed one to become too trusting or too careless.

Or he could wait, and break out of Arkham again. That would be harder; he'd rather escape from the hospital, and so he made sure they'd keep him here. After all, they wouldn't bother to transfer him as long as they thought he couldn't walk.

_That_ was a great one, a truly inspired performance. After his attempt to introduce Commissioner Gordon to a wider worldview had failed, Joker had learned a lot about paralysis, wondering what exactly he'd done to poor little Babster Gordon. He'd done a lot of reading in medical journals, joined some obscure technical forums for student doctors, and seen some _crazy_ things on certain specialized internet archives. But he'd also learned a great deal from the experience, and among the facts he retained was how truly _bad_ most people were at faking paralysis. The standard test for pseudo-paralysis was to remark to another clinician in the suspected malingerer's hearing that paralyzed people stayed in whatever position you put their limbs, then raise the patient's arm and let go. If it stayed up, they obviously weren't paralyzed. For craftier patients, the doctors would simply raise the arm and let it go in such a way that it would smack the patient's face, if they truly had no control of their limbs.

He wasn't trying to pretend full paralysis, no. That'd be over the top. Instead, he paid attention as soon as he could move, and noticed that his right side seemed a trifle weaker than the left. Joker played that into something like a minor stroke, with generalized weakness on his right side. Even after the big casts and external fixators came off – his fractures healed so quickly that the doctors were beginning to doubt what they'd seen on his intake radiographs – he still had one arm in a sling and a whole lot of bandages wound around his head. And when he first tried to stand, to take a few halting steps with nurses and security guards watching anxiously, he'd crashed to the ground hard enough jar his fractured jaw and bite his own tongue.

They wouldn't believe he was faking, with blood on the floor tiles. Joker smiled on the inside; he never half-assed things. Always commit a hundred and ten percent to any performance, or the audience won't buy it.

As one nurse dabbed some antibiotic on his new scrapes, Joker apologized abjectly for making a mess and causing a fuss. He was channeling Harley at her most obsequious; she did a really effective grovel. Personally it drove him nuts, wanting to put a boot in her stupid bleating face, but most people couldn't help wanting to reassure someone who acted like this.

And in the nurse's serious eyes, Joker saw the first glimmers of pity. _Got one,_ he thought, thanking her humbly. With all of his considerable charm bent on her, it wouldn't take long to open up an opportunity.

He'd do his physical therapy assiduously, and a few isometric exercises on his own time as well. When the chance finally came, Joker needed to be ready.

…

Jay checked his phone during a slow moment on patrol. Ever since Joker had regained consciousness, he'd been paying an aide for updates on the bastard's condition. Straight-up HIPAA violation, but so was Babs hacking the hospital mainframe. Besides, it was Joker, who fucking cared? It looked like the lucky fuck was going to live, and even though he seemed to have some 'cognitive deficits' as the hospital termed them, Jay didn't believe that was permanent. Hell, it might not even be real. People forgot how damn _smart _Joker was in the face of all the cackling insanity.

He'd gone over hospital security. Just checking. So far it seemed airtight. No chance of Joker slipping out … or of Harley slipping in, which he knew Bruce worried about. Batman was all over it, and so were the cops, guarding every access. They had to be. It was too easy to kill someone in the hospital. A good-sized air bubble in a central line would do it. Or a little extra push of painkillers. No need to get dramatic about it.

No chance of Jay himself slipping in, either, and he needed to stop thinking about air bubbles and morphine and the good old-fashioned pillow over the face. Or hell, bullet to the brain, even if someone else snuck in and offed Joker, Bruce would look at him first. Might as well be guilty if he was gonna get blamed.

Still, when he checked his phone, Jay was glad to find a distraction. Kala had texted him. _Life just got a little more interesting. And not in the way I wanted it to._ _Not good_.

He frowned. _Patrol's boring. What happened?_

Her reply wasn't quite as swift as super-speed typing allowed, and Jay knew she was thinking about how to phrase something. _Manager pushed me a little too far & uh… I let him go._

For one wild second, Jay thought she meant 'off a roof' or something. This _was_ Kala, and she'd been pissed at this asshole manager for months. Her next message was simply, _Label's gonna be pissed, a lot of people are going to pissed likely, but he deserved it._

_You fired the fuck?_ he asked.

Her response came as a series of messages. _Yeah. Told the label, me or him. He's out. Good news: no more panicky manager jammed up our asses. Bad news: I'm the manager now. Playing Wendy is getting harder and harder to take, but what choice? This is not how it was supposed to be. Just sick of the fakeness this time._

Jay grimaced, reading that. Kala had been extra busy; the West Coast tour dates were intense as they got closer to Los Angeles, with multiple shows in the same city. That was eating up her time, and this news meant she'd have even _less_ free time. Right as he was trying to get a grip on the fact that he no longer looked forward to working alone, too.

Nah, that was selfish. He could handle it. She had a day job, she had to take care of things. He typed back, _You're good at it. If they don't listen, just drop them off a roof._

That should've made her laugh, but instead, there was a long pause between messages. Jay wondered what Kala was doing, and thought about just calling her. Hearing her voice would give him a lot more information than dry words. Problem was, situational awareness was important on patrol, and he didn't get absorbed in texts the way he did in calls. He could look up and check his surroundings between messages.

_I'm thisclose to just chucking all of it. Fuck it, Sebast can walk away, so can me and the boys._

Jay stared. She'd told him being a singer was her dream before she even knew she was Superman's daughter. This was what Kala had wanted since she was like _five years old_. And she was _good_ at it, he might give her shit about her music not being his style, but he'd heard every album by now and she clearly had talent. Not to mention, the sold-out shows spoke for themselves. She should've been on top of the world; she was a fucking _rock star_. What had changed to make her consider throwing it away?

_You sure that's what you want? Or are you just tired of dealing with bullshit like Derek?_ Jay typed the question, wishing he wasn't on patrol. He really should've called. He sent a quick follow up. _Would come kick his ass, but I'm at work._

The phone buzzed, and Kala replied in a series of messages. _Jeez, here you are ON PATROL, doing shit that matters, and having to listen to the princess whine about how haaaaard it is to be a fucking singer. Sorry, Jay. Why do you put up with me?_

For once, he didn't give her the glib answer, something shallow about how she filled out the uniform he'd made for her. That would've been safer, but hell, K wasn't about _safe_. This was a chick who could fly around the entire planet in a matter of hours, who was totally down with crispy-frying the Clown – and could do that with a _look_. Literally.

So he typed back slowly, feeling the back of his neck creep a little at being so honest, _I don't put up with you. I LIKE you. Close air support's nice, you're damn handy in a fight, sometimes I need a kick in the ass and you're good for that too. But mostly I just like you._

Jay waited, scanning his surroundings. The immediate area was quiet; Red Hood dropping into a drug deal and kicking the shit outta the dealers tended to have that effect. All the rats had gone back into their holes for a while.

_WHY?_ That reply came back in its own message, followed shortly by, _I don't even LIKE me half the time. Except when I'm with you._

To his mind, there was nothing not to like. Yeah, okay, when he'd met her, he'd thought Kala was a spoiled little daddy's girl. Whoever heard of a superhero masquerading as a rock singer? Hell, what was up with _Superman's_ daughter of all people trying to go part-time? It looked ridiculous…

Until you knew her, and knew why she shied away from the hero game, why singing was so important as a career, being one of the few areas where her superpowers didn't give her an advantage. Until you knew how fractured K really was, all the things she tried to hide, and if you were, say, a fucked-up ex-Robin who'd damn near died and came back hungry for revenge, maybe you looked into those gorgeous hazel eyes and saw some kind of an echo there. Someone as broken as you were, still soldiering on, still trying despite every fuckwit shaking their heads about what a dilettante she was. And somehow, when she was at her worst, when her shadow-self was trying to swallow her whole or when she'd been beaten damn near unconscious, she found the grit to keep going. She clawed her way back, just like he had. How could he _not_ love her?

Jay shuddered, fighting down the instinct to drop the phone and find a fight to get into. He hadn't said it _out loud_, it didn't count. _Don't talk shit about my girl,_ he sent back. Then another message, _You just like yourself when you're with me bc I let you beat up bad guys. And that's the most fun we can have w clothes on. Who doesn't like fun?_

He could imagine her breaking into a smile, her somber expression lightening. At least, that was what Jay hoped for. He felt like he'd been in one place too long, and jogged over to the next rooftop before looking at his phone again.

Kala had replied. _How pathetic and needy do I sound if I ask if I can come over?_

Trepidation haunted him. Jay wasn't good at emotional stuff, even if Kala was a lot more level-headed and easy to read than most people he knew. Well, most of the people he knew were Bats, so that was a low bar to clear. _Pretty sure 'coming over' privileges are including in the girlfriend package. Any time, K. _

Another pause, then, _How are things there tonight?_

_Slow. Just street scuffles. Could break off & meet you._ That was the honest truth, and Jay waited for a reply.

_It could be a couple weeks before I get back. Dya think the 'wife' would mind?_ That made him chuckle; he wasn't as married to Gotham City as Bruce was, but at least Kala was showing some humor again.

_Come on. What Gotham doesn't know won't hurt her,_ he sent back, and then tapped his comm. "O, there's nothing serious on the street tonight. I'm gonna head in early."

"You're clear," she replied. "Maybe get some sleep for once."

"Nah, I think I'll invite a hot girl over and have a wild party, stay up 'til dawn," he joked back.

"Tell Blur I said hello," Babs laughed at him, and Jay smiled.


	16. Too Fast and You're Non-Committal

**Authors' Note:** One of us works in mail and shipping, the other works retail fulfillment shipping. This season has been an utter clusterfuck for both of us. So we're going to skip next week's posting, build up our lead a little, and try to enjoy Christmas. We dearly hope you all do the same.

Ironically, Christmas in the story will be coming up in a couple chapters, and it's gonna be ... interesting. Hold on tight, friends. It's about to get bumpy.

We hope you all enjoy the fic, and that you're all having a lovely holiday. Thank you for joining us on this wild journey. If you've been here since _Little Secrets_, it really has been a helluva ride.

* * *

Sebast took a bar stool and looked in the mirrored wall behind the bottles, watching all the other people. Couples and small groups sat at tables, single men lined up along the bar, and others were out on the dance floor. For now, he preferred the quieter bar. Once he would've gone to the dance floor first, but tonight he felt, well, a little rusty. So he needed to up his odds of success, and fortunately modern technology came through for him.

Sebast had downloaded Grindr again, put up his favorite pic – with his shirt open, strumming the guitar – and waded through the usual weirdo messages while getting ready to go out. Despite his profile clearly stating 'top', he got a couple of extremely beefy young men offering to fuck him into next week – though usually not that articulately. A few recognized his face and scorned him for using a fake pic, one of which began the conversation by saying, "No way is Sebast Vélez on Grindr, lol nice try." His usual response to doubters was to write their profile name on a sheet of paper with the time, and send a pic of him holding it up next to his face. But this one wasn't quite cute enough to bother.

One guy sent, in his _first_ message, an explicit offer involving pizza and ranch sauce. At least he was more creative than most of the guys who offered sex in the first message; Sebast ignored all of them. Another had 'no fats, no femmes, no blacks,' in his profile, so Sebast blocked _that_ hateful garbage. He had no time for bigots, just in case their stupidity was contagious. Another match asked for a dick pic in his first message, and he turned that down as too thirsty. "At least say 'hi' first, damn," he'd muttered. He also ignored a three hundred word message from an obvious bot, fishing for blackmail nudes.

And this whole exercise in trying to forget wasn't working, because he remembered reading the more bizarre messages to Kala and making her laugh until she wept. He would never forget the horrified look on her face when he read the exchange with a really cute guy who, when asked what he was doing that day, told Sebast he was headed to a friend's funeral. Or the gagging noises she'd made when he read out the messages from the guy who only wanted to buy Sebast's underwear, with a bonus for extra sweat.

Shit, even the photo he was using had been taken by Kala. _Damn._ Despite not being here, Kala was so thoroughly threaded through his life that he couldn't even get laid without thinking of her.

Never mind, out of dozens of messages he'd gotten one decent conversation, and now he was waiting on the guy to show up. Tyler was a couple years younger, clean-cut like Sebast himself, very fit and had a great smile. He wasn't looking for anything serious, like most men using the app. Just the kind of guy he liked to hook up with – a fun night with a hot guy, and no drama afterward.

Except now Sebast was feeling uneasy, staring at his own reflection in the mirrored bar. It wasn't fear of rejection. Sebast was gorgeous and knew it; no matter what photo he used, he always got a lot of attention. And he had an entire folder full of carefully chosen pics, from shirtless ones to the face shots working the Latino smolder. He'd gotten flaked on a few times, but that was normal for the online scene. Most of the time, if Sebast wanted to spend the night with someone, he could always find someone. He only went home alone when he wanted to.

_Home alone_ was precisely where he didn't want to be, the house too big without Kala in it, and the guest bedroom he slept in still not feeling quite right. He knew every swirl in the ceiling plaster from staring up as he tried to fall asleep. Which was part of the reason he was here tonight, trying to distract himself with the best cure for insomnia he'd ever found.

He saw Tyler in the mirror as the other man approached, and turned to size him up. The face and body matched the pictures, and yes, the smile was dazzling. "Sebast?" Tyler said, and held out his hand.

Sebast took it and stood up; Tyler was taller by an inch or so, not enough to be awkward. "The one and only. Nice to meet you, Tyler. What would you like to drink?"

He always bought the drinks, unless his partner made a big deal of paying his own way. One, Sebast could afford it, and two, it kept them from getting blitzed too soon. He didn't like drunk sex … except that once. Sebast stamped down on that line of thought quickly.

Unaware of his conflict, Tyler answered with a grin, "I like Hennessy. How about a Black Velvet?"

Cognac and vermouth couldn't go wrong, so Sebast ordered two as he took his seat and Tyler took the one next to him. While they waited for the drinks, they made a little small talk, just checking out the chemistry and each other. Sebast had a strict no-weirdos policy and was very discriminating about who he agreed to meet, but sometimes they managed to fake normalcy long enough to slip past. Tyler didn't seem to be a weirdo.

Talking about jobs led into a little awkwardness; Sebast didn't feel right calling himself a singer or talking about his band when he'd walked out of it, and had three voicemails from Jenna on his phone right now, each one more wheedling than the last. 'Musician' was good enough, and when he found out Tyler worked retail, they swapped stories about customers from hell.

Never mind that some of the ones Sebast told actually came from Kala's stint at Bed & Bath. All roads led back to her already, he didn't have to start paving more. Tyler didn't seem the Goth rock type, anyway.

After laughing over the lady who _insisted_ that Tyler's store had sold her their competitor's clearly-marked product, and did so despite seeing the competition's name on her own credit statement, they fell into a natural lull in the conversation, just looking into each other's eyes. Sebast knew the precise moment when he should've suggested that they dance – or just head to Tyler's place or his own – and felt all the weight of habit settle on him. He knew every step of this little abbreviated courtship ritual, from how to make the suggestion smoothly, to how to put his guest at ease or how to comment graciously on his host's home, to how to offer condoms without breaking the flow of the evening. Sebast was _good_ at the whole seduction game, always had been, and he could get his own satisfaction while leaving this handsome young man seeing stars.

To his surprise, he didn't want to. All of it seemed … tired, somehow, like he'd been running the same scene in a play over and over, the only change being his co-star. Even the lines were the same. All the spontaneity and joy was just gone, and Sebast had never dreamed he'd feel like that. From the moment he discovered the promiscuous side of the gay community, he'd dedicated himself to laying as many hot young men as physically possible. And he'd been very successful at that goal.

A beat of silence, and then Tyler said, "You know, my roommate works nights. If you wanna come over…"

Sebast sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Dammit, Tyler was really damn pretty – but going home with anyone when his head was this messed up would be a mistake. "Look, Tyler…"

"Second thoughts?" the younger man asked, his tone hardening a little. Sebast couldn't blame him, he'd put himself out here, gone to meet a stranger, there was obvious chemistry, and now Sebast was getting cold feet.

"I'm sorry," he said, touching Tyler's arm lightly. "I was trying to get away from some stuff that's been bothering me, but I think I brought it with me instead. And you're too damn gorgeous to waste a night with you brooding about my own bullshit."

"Come back to my place, then," Tyler said with a spark in his eye. "Bet I can make you forget whatever it is. Or _who_ever it is. At least, for half an hour or so."

Sebast chuckled at that. "Yeah, you probably could. You just deserve my best, and I'm not on my A-game tonight. I … shit, I can't even do _this_ part right."

"Nah, it's cool," Tyler said lightly. "Doesn't work out every time. Just, look, take my number, okay? You're too damn gorgeous to forget about that easily."

"I'll give you mine, too," Sebast said, and they typed them into each other's phones. Only once they were done did he say, a little diffidently, "Look, even if you're seeing someone or something – you're an interesting person. I wouldn't mind just talking."

"Yeah, you seem pretty cool too," Tyler said, then grinned. "I totally thought you were gonna trade on the rock star cred."

Sebast looked surprised, and the younger man laughed. "Man, the second photo you sent me is on your band's page. I thought for sure you'd be some faker trying to steal the real Sebast Vélez's reputation."

"Nah, it's me," Sebast said, feeling embarrassed. "I don't usually tell people who I am unless they know the band and recognize me. Sometimes it's nice to know people like you for yourself, not for the fame. Not that I think you were going for that."

"It's cool," Tyler assured him. "I just figured some of your pics were a little too good to be true. Like they look professional, so I thought model or actor, and reverse image-searched them. Surprised the hell outta me to meet the real deal."

Sebast chuckled. "Singer's close enough. I'll remember to use shitty selfies next time I try to fly undercover."

Tyler sighed, giving an expressive shrug. "Look, since you mentioned it … what the hell are you doing on Grindr anyway? A guy like you can walk in anywhere and get attention. Plus, the rock star thing, if you want casual you can always find groupies."

Narrowing his eyes, Sebast let the laugh turn bitter. "Oh yeah, I get lots of attention. Most of it from creeps. C'mon, you're pretty too, you know how it is. Don't you get tired of being treated like Disposable Twink Number Two-Seventy-Eight? Not to mention, I'm decidedly _not_ a twink."

"Gain a hundred pounds and photoshop some chest hair," Tyler teased, dark eyes sparkling.

"I'd just have to stop waxing. Not into that, I like the clean look. And I can't gain a hundred pounds in this industry, I'm always running my ass off." Sebast finished off his drink, beginning to feel morose.

Tyler leaned closer. "Okay, Grindr's good for screening out the freaks, just 'cause they out themselves so quick. And I'm sure the groupies can get pretty scary…"

"You ever had a girl full-on grab your dick and think it was okay?" Sebast interrupted. "I mean _grab _like it's a goddamn door handle, and then get all upset when you're pissed? 'Cause she's a chick and you're gay anyway, it should just be funny?"

The younger man shuddered. "_No._ And thanks, you just made me glad I'm in school for nursing. So not cool."

"My co-singer ran that one out. Only she thought the girl grabbed my ass – if she knew it was my junk, she'd've decked the bitch and let them cart her out on a stretcher." He slid the glass around in a little circle, smiling to himself. "Kala's protective as hell. I knew if I told her what really happened to make me jump outta my skin like that, I was gonna hafta post bail. Damn, I miss that girl."

"So call her," Tyler said. "Shit, I text my best friend memes at two in the morning."

Sebast couldn't help laughing. "Little bit more complicated than that, but thanks for the advice." He turned the conversation deftly aside, and parted from Tyler with a regretful handshake. Damn shame, really, but his head wasn't right for this.

His head wasn't right for much, and Sebast walked home, thinking about Kala. Maybe it _could_ be as easy as calling her. He'd done it once, right? And she'd answered. True, he'd called to confront her about the small matter of _being a freaking __**superhero**_, but hey, what was a little secret identity between friends?

Sebast sighed gustily, his breath frosty in the cold air. It wasn't a long walk, really, and the chill helped him think. What was he supposed to _do_? He wanted to talk to Kala, but he wanted to see her face when he did, try to parse the truth from the things she felt she had to hide.

And he was gradually realizing that it would be damn difficult to watch Kala in love with someone else. Marlene had been okay, it was almost something all of them were in on together. The whole band knew, they helped hide it from the label, and Sebast hadn't minded because Kala was still right there by his side. Even Dustin hadn't threatened their friendship, Sebast had still all the little things he and Kala only did together. Dustin wasn't exactly a fan of mango ice cream or terrible chupacabra movies. He'd been careful not to interfere with Kala and Sebast's friendship; he'd been a damn good friend to Sebast, too. Even Nick had stepped back a little, knowing Sebast could happily shank him at first.

This guy, Jason Todd, she was flying off to Gotham to see him on the regular. And he knew her in ways Sebast didn't. _He_ wasn't freaking out because his girlfriend was an alien; he'd always known what she was. Jay had been her martial arts trainer, he knew all about the superhero stuff, they ran around Gotham mixing it up with all kinds of crazy villains. Hell, half the reason Kala had been pulling away had probably been because she finally found herself with someone who _understood_. Not even Sebast could say that.

He shook himself, scowling. No, Jay had only met her this summer, right? Maybe they'd crossed paths before that, but the Blur was a fairly new phenomenon in the hero set. And Kala hadn't acted any different before that. Things had only gotten weird recently, right before she left for the summer – and he was ashamed to admit he'd been glad of the breathing room. For the first week or so. After that, he'd missed her. Maybe if she'd stayed home, something would've tipped the balance, and he and Kala would've either admitted their feelings … or gotten into a big wicked fight and ended up right here.

The point was, no matter what Jay knew, he _couldn't_ know her as well as Sebast did. He knew the _Blur_, he didn't know _KLK_. He couldn't understand _all_ of what she was, either. Sebast had to hang onto that.

Dammit, he was gonna have to _talk_ to her, and find out where they stood. But Thanksgiving was coming up, and then in December he was going to Ponce. Wait, what if Kala came home for Thanksgiving?!

He winced, shaking his head. On top of everything else, what were they gonna do about the _house_? Maybe he could buy her out, but if he didn't go back to the tour he was gonna be in some legal trouble. Maybe he should let her buy him out, instead. Kala had been in love with the place, especially the huge windows…

Sebast came to a complete stop, pedestrians stepping around him resentfully. Of _course_ Kala liked the windows, she was half _Kryptonian_, she got her powers from the sun!

He shook himself again, and got walking. He'd have to talk to someone about holiday plans. Things were still too new, too weird, and he didn't want to bump into Kala again until he got his mind right. If he couldn't talk to Kala about it, then he probably needed to call Lois – and if anyone knew how to handle being in love with a solar-powered alien, it was Lois Lane, the original intrepid reporter. Maybe she could help him make sense of the crazy merry-go-round of thoughts and revelations in his head. Lois had said he still was, always would be, family. Time to test that, he guessed.

After Christmas, though, once he was back from the island, he'd have to see about sitting down with Kala and talking through things. To that end, he probably should call their agent back at some point.

Sebast laughed to himself, turning onto their street. He'd gone from trying to get laid, to making plans for business stuff and a lunch date with someone he considered his other mom. If this was being a responsible adult, he'd just as soon go back to being a crazy rock star, thanks.

…

Kala had checked in with Babs, and for once hadn't gotten trolled. Oracle had informed her that Jay had just signed out of patrol, so she met him at the apartment.

_In_ the apartment, actually. She had a key, and she was used to his security, which anyone else would call paranoia. Kala supposed normal people didn't have to disarm a laser grid and a tripwire to visit their boyfriend, but hell, it was all part of Jay's charm. She'd only managed to stumble into a stun gun _once_. And her situational awareness was pretty keen these days.

She heard his key, and waited for him, her heart beating faster. Kala had changed out of her uniform, just wearing his shirt to curl up on his bed. The room was chilly, but she'd sunned up earlier in the day, and her metabolism was humming along, keeping her nicely warm. To keep herself occupied – she didn't need to obsess about the band right now – she'd started reading the closest book, which happened to be _Emma_, by Austen. About as far from Jay's life experience as a book could be, but maybe that was why he loved them so much. She'd opened it at his bookmark, near the end, and let herself get caught up in the prose.

Kala had just run into the line, 'If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more,' when Jay came in, disarming the traps. For a moment she kept staring at the page, taken aback by the words and how they echoed in her own life.

He was _here_, though, and as he stepped into the room she looked up, her eyes meeting his. Jay wasn't startled, but his eyes moved over the book in her hands, his shirt covering her skin, her long legs bare beneath. And then he smiled, slow and wicked, the sight of it putting all of her doubts to rest. _This_ was right, _this_ was real, Kala didn't need to worry about anything when he smiled like that. Jay stalked toward her, his eyes agleam, and said, "I must've been _very_ good this year, if Santa sent me a present like this a whole month early."

Setting the book aside, she smirked at him. "On the contrary, Mr. Todd, this is what you get for being very, very _naughty_."

He laughed, the best sound she'd ever heard, and Kala sprang up to leap into his arms. Jay was already moving forward to grab her, and they met in the middle of the room in a tangle of limbs and laughter.

…

Halfway across the world, it was mid-morning, and sunlight slanted into Steph's eyes. "Five more minutes," she groaned, rolling over.

She rolled right onto Cass, who in the mornings always seemed to be comprised entirely of knees and elbows, and whose shoulder blade caught Steph in the chin. Muttering to herself, she shifted around to get comfortable. Cass never woke up; she could sleep through Steph literally _stepping_ on her, as had happened once or twice on the dicey trip up from Juba. However, if anyone else so much as _breathed_ loudly nearby, Cass would be on her feet with a weapon in hand. Steph envied that training, sometimes, and was awed by the trust Cass had in her.

For a while, she dozed, content in the safety of their little room. But eventually, the light crept further down the wall, and Steph had to face the morning. She kissed Cass' shoulder, letting her sleep, and finally crawled out of bed.

Their report last night had held some promising hints of Shiva's intentions; Babs was tracking the shipping information for a warehouse here, where some of Shiva's men had spent a long evening haggling over goods. They _might_ just have an idea where the mysterious target actually _was_. Still, Steph anticipated another afternoon and evening of skulking around trying to listen to those men and decipher their plans.

She decided to fortify herself and Cass with food. There was a place nearby that sold delicious sfinz, a sort of flat doughnut that Steph had come to love, especially topped with date molasses. Cass preferred the version with an egg fried atop it, which Steph liked too, but her sweet tooth always prevailed. She dressed to go out, in a slightly different disguise.

They had moved south to the town of Sabha, following Shiva, and they were lucky that this town had a decent amount of tourists. Fort Elena was actually on the back of the currency, and the military had chased out the rebel groups, so things had calmed down enough that Steph and Cass could still blend in. Around here, though, the farrashia were _too_ old-fashioned, enough so to draw attention. Steph and Cass had switched to wearing the niqab instead. It covered all of their faces except a narrow strip around the eyes, and came down over their shoulders as well. With long-sleeved blouses and long skirts, it was enough to hide their identities without looking out of place. There was a bit of a cultural push for more strict interpretations of modesty, and most of the adherents wore the niqab, which was otherwise more of a Gulf-state thing.

Steph didn't really care. She'd gotten used to wearing several variations of local clothes, and to her surprise the long layers of dark fabric weren't stifling hot like she would've expected. And she felt safely anonymous, where she would've been noticed if her whole face and very light blonde hair were visible. Cass wasn't as comfortable, feeling as if her movement was restricted, but Steph wasn't planning on doing any running or fighting when she was incognito.

She made her way unremarked to the shop, and waited in line, listening to conversations around her out of habit. Someone's cousin was getting married, and the two young men murmuring about it sounded both excited for the new groom, and a little jealous. Someone else was on the phone, talking business. And two teenage girls were complaining about their mothers. Steph grinned; some things were universal.

The line moved forward, and the woman at the head of it walked to the doors with her package of sfinz. Steph's mouth watered, smelling both honey and date molasses, and she glanced up at the woman with a smile. Of course, no one could see her mouth, but she'd learned how to decipher expressions from just the eyes, and presumably so could everyone else who lived here. Amazing how much information was in a person's eyes…

This woman's eyes, behind a niqab like her own, were a piercing light green. They glanced through Steph – then suddenly she looked back, more intent. Something about her was sharper than her surroundings, somehow, as if she were in focus and the rest of the people in the shop weren't.

Making eye contact had been a mistake. They weren't supposed to draw attention to themselves, and the last thing Steph needed was someone deciding that she wasn't being quite modest enough. She should've avoided drawing attention to herself.

Lucky for her, shyness was considered a good thing. Steph looked down at the ground, trying to seem humble. The woman swept past her without a word, and Steph breathed out. Hell, maybe the woman had mistaken _Steph_ for one of the young firebrands, and thought _she'd_ been about to be judged somehow.

She ordered her breakfast – brunch, really – in a polite murmur, paid, and headed back to their rooms. On the way, she overheard another murmured conversation, and slowed her steps. Steph couldn't linger; Sabha was a large town, but not so large that she could easily vanish into a crowd. And the place was surrounded by desert, making it difficult to _leave_ unnoticed.

Two men were talking softly as they walked, and Steph kept her head down, trying to match their pace, listening hard. "The daughter will not come?" one asked gruffly.

"She has other concerns. And she fears the lady. She will not come here, unless he forces her hand, and then they will both come, with reinforcements," the second replied, with a contemptuous tone.

The way the first said _the daughter_ sounded like a title, and Steph knew Shiva's people had a reason to worry about a daughter. The Daughter of the Demon, Talia al Ghul, might be expected to come here and put down Shiva's rebellion. He'd said _the lady_ too, and that could mean Lady Shiva.

Steph risked a careful glance. She didn't recognize the second man, but the first was one she'd seen before, in the north. So they probably were Shiva's, and they probably were talking about the Demon's Daughter, and oh boy, if they looked too closely at her and noticed anything out of the ordinary, things could get ugly _fast_.

Even while her mind was calculating the best routes of escape and conjuring up thoroughly unhelpful worst-case scenarios, Steph kept listening in. The first man asked, "You're bold, to speak ill of your former master."

The second chuckled. "_You_ are bold, my friend, to rebel against _our_ former master. And frankly, I am exhausted by the quarrels between father and daughter. Family strife like that should not affect a great cause like ours. We were promised a purpose, a duty to the entire world. It isn't right to turn men like us into babysitters."

"Be careful. The lady respects them both," the first man said. They were coming to a cross-street, and Steph hoped they kept on. If they turned, and she turned to follow them, they'd surely notice. The League of Shadows trained its men well, if not quite as well as Batman trained his Robins.

"Good. She won't be foolhardy when we face them. It is time for a change in management. The lady's goals are more in line with what we _should_ be. But that will not make the fight against them an easy one."

This time, the first man chuckled. "It will be easier, once we take the compound in the Tibesti Mountains. It is well-defended."

"Indeed. The problem with making a fortress your stronghold is that _you_ must take it first. I assume you have plans?" The second man looked dubious.

"Of course. Not here." The first man glanced around, hesitating, and Steph was glad she'd only been watching them with peripheral vision. She passed them, continuing on, and they turned down the road. Steph let out a sigh, glad to be away from danger, and quickened her pace. At least she had a solid clue.

She passed the woman from the shop, lingered at a market stall, and Steph's feverish mind wondered if she'd been listening to the men, too. It would've taken more surveillance skill than Steph had, to stay in _front_ of them and still hear them, without attracting notice. No, coincidences did happen, this was the main marketing street where _everyone_ did their shopping. It didn't have to mean anything.

The whole _detective_ side of things wasn't her strong suit, and she knew it. Bruce would've already calculated the odds, given the population size and time of day, that this woman was here purposefully or by random chance. And frankly, no matter how unlikely it was, he would automatically assume she was also spying on the men. Or spying on Steph. They called him the World's Greatest Detective for his insights and skillful deductions … but his own people also called him the World's Biggest Paranoid, behind his back.

Tim had turned purple, trying not to laugh out loud, when Steph said that. And once he could breathe properly again, he admitted Dick had a similar nickname for Batman.

Steph sighed, missing all of them. The boys, the Birds, Bruce himself, the Titans, hell, even missing Crown Point. She _liked_ Africa, she'd loved being able to do things that _mattered_ in South Sudan, and here in the north she liked the food and the people, too. But none of it was home, and she couldn't forget that this was a dangerous part of the world, just now. Even more dangerous for her and Cass, trying to tiptoe around the League of Shadows.

She made it back to their room, and found Cass awake, blinking at her. "I brought breakfast, and a clue," Steph said brightly, handing over the food.

Cass sat up sharply at that, her eyes widening, and Steph related the whole morning's adventure as they portioned out the sfinz. "So it sounds like we're headed south again," she said. One thing still bothered her. "I'm just being spooked out by the woman in the shop, right? Nobody else is working this case."

"None of ours," Cass replied, warily. She reached out and tapped Steph's chest. "Trust instincts. You noticed her. Could be important."

Steph frowned. "Yeah, but it's damn hard to track down somebody based on a few seconds passing in the street. These clothes work a little _too_ well as a disguise. I couldn't pick her out of a lineup…"

She trailed off thoughtfully, and Cass waited. "Maybe I could," Steph said. "You get all kinds of eye colors around here, a lot of dark, but mine aren't _that_ unusual. Neither is green. Hers were a very light green, though. I might know her, if I saw her again."

Cass stared at her. "Talia al Ghul has green eyes," she finally said.

Now _that_ was extra super-spooky, and Steph shivered. "No _way_," she whispered. "Those guys were saying she wouldn't be here. And even if she was, wouldn't she be running around with, like, a literal army?"

Cass only shrugged. "The men could be wrong. Talia could be hiding. Must tell Oracle."

And Oracle might just pull them out, for that. Steph felt relieved … and then a stubborn little spark rose up in her. She _hated_ being treated like a invalid, even if she probably technically was one. It was far too much like being a failure. For a wild moment, she considered telling Cass not to say anything…

But common sense prevailed. "Yeah, okay, let's update her." She pulled out the netbook, careful not to get any sticky-sweet date molasses on it, and fired it up.

Cass snuggled close at her side as Steph ran through the verification protocols and waited for Babs to reply. As usual, she came in quickly, despite how late it was in Gotham. Steph trusted in the encryption software, and typed in a summary of her morning. Including the woman who'd seemed to take notice of her.

Babs' response took a bit longer than she would've thought. _I'd tell you to pull out, if I thought you'd go._

That was … more candid than she'd expected, and Steph leaned back from the screen. "What the…?" she muttered, then shook her head. _You think it's Talia?_

_I think it's dangerous, no matter what,_ Babs replied. _If Talia is there, it's even more dangerous, intolerably so. We have a general location now, thanks to your investigation. I could send agents to look further into it. _

Cass shook her head, frowning. Steph typed quickly, _You already have agents here. C'mon Oracle, what are we trained for?_

_NOT stopping a civil war within the League of Shadows!_ The reply came back so fast that Steph could see Babs in her mind's eye, typing furiously.

Steph sighed, and gritted her teeth. _Well, you said it yourself. We wouldn't leave anyway. So are you gonna send the Birds to sit on us?_

A pause, and Cass kissed her shoulder, watching quietly. Then the green text rolled across the screen again. _The truth is, I CAN'T__. Joker's awake. He appears cognizant, with some memory loss, and partial paralysis. They suspect brain damage. *I* suspect he's faking it all. We're barely holding a lid on this town. Everyone is trying to take over his position. Harley's still free, too._

That sent a shiver down Steph's spine. Carefully, she typed back, _Sounds like it'd be almost as dangerous back home._

_I'm aware of that. I'm also aware that I can't force Batgirl to leave Shiva's trail. And that you won't leave her. So as long as you're ONLY doing surveillance, I have to admit leaving you in place is the best option._

Steph sighed, looking at Cass. "Well, we've got clearance to keep following her. For now. You good with that, Batgirl?"

Cass nodded, and Steph narrowed her eyes. "We're _only_ watching. Once we know exactly where Shiva is, or exactly what she wants, we call it in and leave it to the big guns. That's why we work for Babs, remember? She has more experience than both of us, so she makes the calls."

Just the slightest hesitation before Cass nodded again. And when Steph continued staring at her, she spoke reluctantly. "Yes."

Turning back to the keyboard, Steph typed, _OK, we're on watch only. I made sure Cass agrees. If we get anything concrete, we'll call it in._

_Good. Be careful, both of you. You're a long way from home._

Steph signed off, thinking nothing had ever been so uncomfortably true.

…

Afterward, Jay lit a cigarette and offered it to Kala. She shook her head, burrowing into his side with a content sigh, and he grinned at her. "I take it that was worth the flight?"

That smile, it never failed to warm you, even when it was somewhat lost in a fall of black hair. "You're always worth the flight," she murmured, slipping an arm around his waist, tossing her tumbled hair out of her eyes to steal a kiss before settling back again. "Even when we only have time to patrol. This's the only part of my life that's going right, these days."

"Okay, when coming to Gotham to beat up gangsters and supervillains is the only thing going right, you really need to reexamine some shit," Jay managed to laugh. "Kicking your asswipe manager out was a good first step, though. Maybe you can get some sanity back in the other half of your life."

Kala looked up at him, her hazel eyes serious. "Most people would be telling me to ditch the band, and come spend more time with them."

"Most people are assholes. Not that I'm not an asshole, too, I just want you to be happy. And until this run with the jerkwad manager and things with your co-singer going haywire, you fuckin' _loved_ being a singer. Remember how pissed you got when I asked you why _that_, of all careers?" Jay raised his brows at her, worrying. Maybe she really _was_ going to flush the rock star gig down the drain, and he didn't like any move that drastic.

"It's not fun anymore," she whispered with a thoughtful expression, her tone longing. "I mean, it was always more work than people think, but … everything I loved about it is just _gone_. I don't even look at the forums anymore, it's too damn toxic. If it wasn't for the boys and the fans, I'd hang it up right now."

Jay knew why. Some of it – a lot of it – was the manager being a dickwad. But the biggest change in her life recently was Sebast walking out. _That_ was the main reason why the whole KLK thing was a drain right now.

It made Jay feel guilty, in a way, because if she and Sebast had sorted things out, he wouldn't be dating Kala now. And if Sebast hadn't left, Kala might not be over here every chance she could get, looking for someone who understood her.

He had no idea what to tell her. Emotional support wasn't really his strong suit, anyway, and Jay had very few friends in his life, so he didn't quite know how to sympathize with losing one. He also hadn't had a driving passion turn sour on him the way she had. Reading never went stale, and it wasn't a performance type of thing that could turn problematic. Jay found himself utterly at a loss for words. But she had once said he just needed to be there. Maybe he was already doing enough.

"I dunno, K," Jay finally said. "I guess … don't give up yet. If you wanna throw in the towel, I understand that. The last thing you are is a quitter. If you're even thinking about giving it up, it's been hell. But you worked too long and fought too hard for this. At least wait until after New Year's. Maybe things will turn around. Besides, your hundreds of thousands of screaming fans will wanna see you. I sure can't blame them, I look forward to seeing you, too. So, maybe hold on a little longer? I'm not gonna turn into a pumpkin if you can't be here every day."

She looked up at him, those huge hazel eyes filled with something Jay couldn't name, and then Kala closed them on a sigh, giving him a brief smile. "I don't deserve you, you know that?" she whispered, curling into his side.

Jay startled a bit at that. "Yeah, well, you put up with me gracefully despite that."

He'd hoped Kala would snark back at him for that, but she only cuddled as close as possible, as if the cure for her unhappiness could somehow infuse from his skin to hers.

Part of him wanted to run from anything that so much as hinted at _need_ … but oh, God, he needed her too. Kala blew into his life like a whirlwind, opening doors he'd thought were barred forever; she made him _feel_ in ways he hadn't been able or hadn't let himself since the Pit. She was _good_ for him, and the thought of losing her made him nauseous. He didn't want anyone depending on him, because his life was a long series of spectacular fuck-ups and the less collateral damage he caused, the better. But Kala … maybe it didn't have to be like that with Kala.

So Jay held her tighter, kissed her forehead, and rubbed her shoulders, hoping she could manage to get some rest here with him. She nuzzled even closer, wanting every inch of contact she could get, and Jay realized all over again just how _warm_ she was. Without the layers of his uniform, the apartment was cold, but Kala damn near sizzled wherever he touched her. "Is it really that damn cold in here, or are you just that hot?" he asked, the double meaning catching him only after he'd said it.

Kala laughed, brushing her nose against his chin; the very tip of her nose was a little cold, while the rest of her was sauna-warm. "Both?" she ventured, her eyes sparkling. "Is _both_ an option?"

"Yeah, both is an option," Jay chuckled, and the hell with it. No one else was around to give him grief about being cutesy, so he snuggled up to her.

Even if Babs _had_ snuck cameras into his apartment – which he was pretty sure she wouldn't do – he could always claim it was just about the weather. Kala was a whole lot more comfortable to cuddle than a hot water bottle.


	17. Unsubtle Are the Ties That Bind

Richard breezed into Lois' office at eleven-thirty and asked, "Hey, Lo, there's a new Thai place on 38th street. Wanna swing by for lunch?"

She chuckled at him. "Trying to butter up your boss again?"

He crossed his arms and grinned. "I almost married you, that should've been enough sacrifice for a lifetime of preferential treatment. No, I just thought you'd enjoy the chance to conquer something hotter than you are."

"No such thing exists, not even Thai curry," Lois replied automatically. Then she remembered her plans for the day, and sighed. "I'll have to go tomorrow. I've got lunch plans today."

Richard waggled his brows at her. "Oh, Clark's gonna sweep you away for a nooner? Good man. Just not the supply closet, okay?"

She threw a paperclip at him. "Dammit, Richard, that was almost twenty years ago, _let it go_. But no, I'm not having lunch with Clark." He was out on assignment today – reporting, not heroing, for once.

Her ex-fiance looked at her curiously. "Really? Meeting the girls at Dooley's? Or a mysterious source?"

Lois couldn't help grinning. "Actually I'm meeting an attractive younger man."

Richard smirked. "I _am_ an attractive man, but if it's got to be younger, make sure he knows what the hell he's doing. Send the cougar-bait my regards."

She scoffed laughter, picking up her purse; it was time to head out, anyway. She kissed Richard's cheek as she passed him – standing in the doorway, of course, so the old guard could listen to the eternal joking and roll their eyes – and whispered, "He really wouldn't know. It's Sebast."

He turned at that, with a relieved smile. "Thank God he's talking to _someone_. Give him a hug for me, okay? I remember what a head trip it was."

Lois shrugged. "At least he wasn't trying to fly a plane." They both grinned, remembering how Richard found out about Clark's alter ego, and she headed out.

The restaurant had been picked for privacy, but Lois knew the food was good. She got there five minutes early, but even so Sebast was already there, standing just outside the doors. "Hi," he said, looking sheepish and awkward.

She stopped, smiling at him, and then caught his arm to pull him in for a hug. "Hi, Sebast. We've missed you."

"I missed you guys too," he mumbled against her shoulder, and Lois could feel the tension in him. He felt like he'd needed a hug for days, and could stand there just sinking into her arms for hours.

Lois rubbed his back gently, and murmured, "And everyone would completely understand if you were totally pissed, too."

That startled a laugh from him, drawing back, and Lois patted his arm. "To a certain degree, _I _was when I found out. Come on, let's go inside. We're both public figures, and Richard already implied I was sneaking out for a quickie."

Sebast spluttered, shaking his head. "Dios mío, I don't wanna hear that. Jeez, Mom, way to make me never hug you again."

"If all this with Kala hasn't made you drop out, getting called cougar bait won't do it either," Lois quipped back as they headed in. She took a table toward the back, and Sebast sat down beside her, the better to keep their conversation private.

He looked nervous; hell, that was being generous. Sebast looked like he hadn't slept for a week and was holding it together with coffee alone. So the first thing Lois asked him, once their drink orders were in, was, "Are you okay?"

"No?" he said with a little laugh. "I mean, every damn day since I found out, it's another revelation. And I'm still kinda paranoid about my phone, once I heard from Oracle."

Lois scoffed a little. "She got you, huh? That side of the group is kind of … overprotective."

"Paranoid," Sebast said. "Elise had a few choice words to say, too."

"Elise is still pissed. Oracle's probably not watching your phone, Sebast. She's got a _lot_ on her plate, like being the information broker for the entire League. You didn't fly off the handle and call the press in the first forty-eight hours, so you're unlikely to do it now."

He frowned at her. "Damn, you've all done this enough that you know what the window is for freaking out and calling the Inquirer?"

"Sadly, yes. There are a lot of people out there doing this kind of thing, Sebast. All of them try to have real lives, as much as possible. That means keeping secrets … and eventually the people they love either find out, or get told." Lois looked at him frankly, seeing an echo of herself. The wonder was there, that sense of awe that she'd felt watching Clark straighten up and lower his voice to Superman's rich timbre. Also the frustration, at how the few parts of 'normal' life she wanted for herself kept getting postponed or denied.

He rubbed the side of his face, where stubble had been allowed to grow. "It's just … a lot. I mean I'm still getting over _him_. Also aren't there photos of him and, y'know, the alter ego?"

Lois nodded. "We've got a couple shapeshifters. If her identity had ever been compromised, we'd arrange for them to be photographed together. It's all about protecting people, Sebast. _Especially_ the ones who aren't in the game. I'm not a civilian, anymore, but you are. And almost everyone out there has civilians to protect. There are some who try to stick with other capes, but that has its own issues."

"Seems to be working for her," Sebast sighed, and the waiter approached with their drinks. Sebast had gone for a rum and coke; Lois had to go back to work, so she'd gotten coffee. Neither of them had glanced at the menu, but Lois glanced at it long enough to order a mushroom swiss burger, and Sebast picked out something similar with bacon and pepper jack cheese.

Once they were alone again, Lois said, "She didn't plan on this, Sebast. She's always stayed away from capes – she doesn't have the best relationship with the community, because she started later than Jase, even. They think she can be like him, or like her father, leading a team, and they don't know she has a real job that she can't just ditch anytime. Or they do know, and they think she's crazy for trying to do both."

He sipped his drink thoughtfully. "Yeah, that _is_ kind of a mind trip. Just to think of everything she's had to juggle. And then, how did I not see it? I mean, I've _lived_ with her and never noticed this!"

"I worked across from her father for a couple years and never noticed," Lois replied with a sad smile. "At least in your case, the Blur was barely on your radar. I was interviewing him every chance I got. Once, right before a date with Clark."

Sebast's mouth twitched up in a grin. "Oh, that's just rude."

Lois sighed and shrugged. "I was a real ball-breaker back in the day. He got a kick out of giving me some of my own medicine. The point is, no one looks at Clark and thinks, _him_. Just like no one looks at the singer in a Goth band and thinks _her_. Just like no one looks at the nerdy farmer and thinks of who he is. They're good at what they do."

"Aw man, I can't even think about Jason. Like I _see_ it, now, but you'd think he couldn't keep a secret to save his life." Sebast winced, rubbing his temple. "It makes my head hurt, Lo. I don't know how you keep up."

"Have you seen my friends? My life has _always_ been crazy. He just kicked it up a notch. Or three." Lois chuckled a little.

"Oh my God. All your friends are _reporters_. You practically raised the twins in the newsroom. How the hell did you _hide_ that?" Sebast's eyes had gone wide with the fresh revelation.

"They didn't start to show any differences until they were about six, and not long after that, they learned the hard way why it was better for no one outside the family to know," Lois replied, gritting her teeth. If not for a mirror, she would've ended her family's nightmares on that yacht eighteen years ago, putting a bullet in Luthor's head. "When someone's life depends on it, you get real good at keeping secrets. Too good, sometimes."

Sebast nodded slowly. "Yeah, I think that's where she is right now. Which, okay. How did _you_ find out? And how did you get over being lied to?"

Lois laughed at that. "Well, honestly, I started to suspect because I was _always_ around one or the other, but they were never in the same room. If one turned up, the other had just disappeared seconds ago. Not to mention, the hero had become a little standoffish, and the man was being just a little forward. Forward for him, anyway. They were both sending mixed signals. What cinched it was seeing a side by side photo set of both of them. Then I knew, and I was out to prove it."

"How'd you manage it?" Sebast asked, with a little grin.

She couldn't help rolling her eyes at her younger self. "Jumped out a sixtieth floor window. And into the rapids below Niagara Falls. And when he managed to fake _that_ out, I got sick of it and shot him."

Sebast's eyes went wide with shock. "You _shot_ him?!"

"It was a blank, relax," she chuckled. "_He_ didn't know that. He heard the shot and scolded me, said that if I'd been wrong, my friend would've died. And smartass me just grinned and told him about the blank. I wish I'd had a camera."

"Damn, all I had to do was punch a wall, find a costume, and call and ask," Sebast said, shaking his head. "What about afterward? How'd you handle the lies?"

Lois gave a chagrined laugh. "Yeah, I don't think our aftermath will work for you. See, Kala and Jason were born _exactly_ ten months later. And boy, was I pissed at him then."

"Ten months?" Sebast asked, arching a brow.

"Their gestation is longer than ours. If I hadn't been carrying twins, they might've gone to eleven. So yeah, we got the _after_ sorted pretty quickly. But then, all the _other_ stuff happened." There was a wealth of sorrow, even now, looking back on those days, as her belly grew and she stared up at the sky, at first with longing, then with grief, finally with fear.

Sebast propped his chin on his hand, looking at her thoughtfully. "I don't actually know all the other stuff. I know Kala didn't meet her dad until she was almost six, and you used to be engaged to Mr. White, but there was some story about Clark being out of the country or something. I guess … I should've looked it up."

Lois sighed, and glanced around the restaurant again before speaking. The waiter arrived with their food, and she waited until he was out of earshot before replying. "He was gone, all right. He thought – he was _made_ to think – that Krypton might still exist. And with everything that happened … hell, Sebast, the day after I found out about him was when Zod came to town."

He bristled at that name, then the implication hit. "Oh no. I _did_ read up on that – he was missing, when they first arrived?"

Chagrined, Lois told him, "Distracted. The way it all came down, he thought he had to give up his powers to be with me. So he didn't know, when they first arrived. And when we ventured out into the light of day again, that was the first news he heard." She was leaving out a great deal, but Sebast didn't need to know all of that. "After it was all over, he thought he couldn't have me and the cape, and not even I could disagree that the world needed the cape. So … we split. And it broke my heart. His, too. He couldn't bear to see me hurt, so he found a way to make me forget what we had. And forget who he was, because I already knew Clark was head over heels for me. Before too long, it was killing him to be the only one who remembered, so when he saw the news about a home that might still exist, he went to see for himself."

She sighed, shaking her head. What fools they had all been. "Problem was, not only did he _not_ tell his press liaison that he was about to leave for almost six years, I was already pregnant with those two. _Nobody_ was ready for _that_ news."

Sebast shuddered. "I can't even imagine. And hell, he took your memory – did you even know how they happened?"

"I got the memories back eventually," Lois replied. "Damn near drove myself crazy chasing after them until I managed to break through the mental block. And when I did, my heart broke all over again, because the guy I loved left me alone, in the dark, and pregnant. Anyway, now you know why I sound ready to kill him, if you read any of the articles I wrote just after he showed back up."

Taking a sip of his drink, Sebast could only shrug. "He is lucky you didn't outright kill his ass. Although, that'd be pretty hard to accomplish."

"I could've found a way," Lois admitted. "Problem was, I was still in love with him, too. A fact that did not escape the guy I was engaged to at the time, who happened to be a fanboy with S-shield decals on the wings of his seaplane."

"Ouch," Sebast winced. "God, that far back?"

Smirking, Lois added, "Oh yeah. Don't worry, the fact that _he_ was still in love with _me_ didn't escape anyone's notice either. Including the hometown girl high school crush turned millionaire who'd just rolled into Metropolis wanting to know if he was still single."

He almost choked on a bite of the burger. "You are all _terrible_ people. Dios mío, at least you're making all my bullshit look salvageable."

"It was a powder keg. We got lucky – when everything went sideways, we all put the bullshit aside to save the kids. And came out of it still friends with each other, even if it took a while to get as comfortable as we are now. Of course, you have a different set of challenges." Lois looked at him with a sympathetic eye. He'd known Kala younger, and was more wrapped up in her life than Lois had been with Clark. The pressure from his parents – who were so far in denial that they might as well buy a riverboat – didn't help either.

For a few moments, they ate in silence, wrapped up in their own thoughts. Sebast washed down another bite of the burger with a large swallow of his drink, and sighed. "Well, at least we've got one thing going for us. At least she's not pregnant. Although that was well over a year ago now anyway."

That made Lois' fries go down the wrong way, and she had to cough until her eyes watered. Alarmed, Sebast patted her shoulder, muttering, "Shit, shit, _shit_, I forgot you didn't know about that! Sorry, I'm sorry, forget I said anything."

Lois finally managed to catch her breath, and laughed a little. The waiter had started their way, looking alarmed, and she waved him off, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin. "Well, you certainly managed to make it complicated for yourself." When he looked away, miserable and embarrassed, Lois caught his chin and tilted his face back up. "Oh, honey. You two always did love each other more than any convenient label for it."

"Yeah, well, now she's dating someone else, and that's my fault," Sebast said. "In a way, I kept secrets from her, too. I can't mess with what she has with him, though. She loves this guy. A lot. He gets her."

"So do you," Lois pointed out.

"I thought so, but there's a whole other half to her life that I knew nothing about," he replied, with a flicker of pain in his eyes.

Lois rapped him lightly on the nose. "Him, too. He's never really _had_ a civilian life. He was in this game from like thirteen. That's what he knows. And Kala won't give up being a singer. You thought Dustin couldn't handle the vagabond rock star life, there's no way in hell you'll get _him_ on a tour bus."

Sebast shrugged, pulling away slightly. "I just… Stuff I thought was only in newspapers, that only happened to other people, now it's dumped in my lap. No matter what I do now, my life's never gonna be the same, because anyone who knows about _her_ is gonna assume I make a good hostage."

Lois' smile was cold and sharp. "Anyone who thinks that about you is going to find out real fast that she has her mother's temper. I'd feel sorry for them, honestly. The rest of us won't take kindly to it either. We protect our own, in this family."

"That's the same as it ever was," Sebast said, but she could see that it heartened him to hear it anyway.

"Also, most people don't have the first clue about her. There's one that knows, but most of the bad guys think she's something else entirely." Never had Lois been so happy about Kala's iconoclastic streak. It hurt her, sometimes, not to wear the family crest. But she was different enough in temperament and fashion sense that so far no one suspected she was a Super.

Sebast sighed again, lost in thought for a few moments. "Lo, how do you _deal_ with all this shit? The person you thought you knew has a whole other world to them. How do you reconcile that?"

She leaned back in her seat, regarding him. "Sebast, that's true of _any_ relationship. You think you know someone inside and out, but unless you've been there every day since they were born, you don't. Ask Jason and Kala, even if you _were_ there every day, you weren't inside their head to see what they thought about everything. It's like … out at the Kent farm, there's that big field, the one the mules hang out in? And I've been there plenty of times, I've walked all over that property, I watched my kids learn to ride in that pasture. If you asked me, I'd say I know it pretty well. But last year I was walking across the same way I always do, taking a shortcut from the barn to the front yard where I parked the car, and I managed to put my foot in a hole and twist my ankle."

Sebast frowned, chewing his burger, and she continued, "Clark knew that hole was there; he's the one who mowed that field as a kid. It's a spot they've filled in before, but it's right behind a tree root and that's just how the rain collects and washes out the soil right there, so they keep having to fill it back in. He knows that, because he knows every rock and stump and hollow on that land. I _thought_ I did. But the thing is, the grass in that little spot grows just as high as everything around it, so you can't see it until you step in it. People are like that, too, Sebast. I've know Clark almost thirty years, and every once in a while he surprises me. What I thought was a level patch of grass has a hidden rise or dip in it. You … this secret's a little more like falling into a cave, but that happens to people all the time, too. They think they know their land, and then a tree comes down on a hillside and opens up a tiny spring into an actual cavern. _Everyone_ has worlds inside them we don't know about."

That was clearly a sobering thought, and Sebast leaned his chin on his palm, turning it over in his mind. "So what do you do? When you step onto what you thought was firm ground and fall into a cave?"

"Keep loving them anyway," Lois told him. "They're still the same person as before. It doesn't change everything you've said and done together. You still know them. You don't have to know every blade of grass in a field to make it part of your home. People do it every day. Maybe not as dramatically as this, but since when have you shied from drama?" She smiled at that, arching a brow.

He smiled back slowly. "This is why everyone loves you. And why you won a Pulitzer. You've got a gift for putting things in exactly the right words."

Lois scoffed. "I didn't at your age. Or a few years later when I was scrambling to deal with him. Hell, Sebast, at least you didn't have to make yourself believe a man can fly."

His chuckle warmed her heart, and Lois let herself believe that it was going to be all right. She shrugged. "We love them. What else can we do? Not like we get much choice."

"Amen to that," Sebast said staunchly.

…

The band were unremarkable in the main concourse at LAX. Morgan had the earliest flight, back to Metropolis, and Ned's plane left for New Orleans half an hour later. They'd both gotten nonstop flights, and the airfare was surprisingly cheap considering the distance. Perks of flying out of a large hub.

Everyone thought Kala was leaving an hour later, going to Kansas City. Which she was, but she hadn't actually bought a plane ticket. Her way was both faster and greener, and the carry-on bag she'd brought contained her Blur uniform. That'd be less conspicuous than flying around in her regular clothes.

Robb was staying; he was from California anyway, and he had invited Jennifer to his parents' Thanksgiving dinner. Her folks were in Minnesota, and she was going home for Christmas this year, staying in Los Angeles for Thanksgiving. She and Robb had driven the others to the airport, and Kala made sure to hug her tightly. "Take good care of my bassist," she said, smiling. They were going to be gone for the four-day weekend, a longer separation since the beginning of this tour.

"Oh, I will," Jennifer promised with a roguish grin, and beside her Robb turned an interesting shade of pink.

"Don't kill him, Jennifer," Kala laughed.

"He'll be fine. Just hope his parents don't kill me." She had a professional smile that Kala had seen, all perfectly capped teeth, but this one was her crooked grin that meant she was really happy. And Kala was happy for both of them.

Now maybe Kala herself might be able to put her _own_ life together.

Ned hugged her next, resting his chin on her head, and said, "Tell the mechanic we miss him. And don't run his girlfriend off, she was nice."

"Yes, sir," Kala laughed, face buried in his shoulder. "Tell your mom we miss her, too. And tell your cousin not to give up on that rockabilly thing, I like their sound."

Morgan hugged her last, while Robb and Ned were playfully punching each other and Jennifer rolled her eyes at them. When Morgan stepped back, he caught Kala's shoulders. "You gonna be all right?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "It's only a few more shows until Christmas break. I've got this, we can work it out. And tomorrow all I have to do is eat and harass my cousins."

He nodded. "Do you think the label's gonna call you in?"

Kala stretched her neck. "Pretty sure they will. But fuck 'em, I told them we'd see after the holiday. Whatever happens, I'm not giving up."

Morgan gave her one more hug, and then said sternly, "I'm fuckin' proud of you, Kala."

Her smile wavered; he tended to see through her facade a little better than the rest. Then again, of the remaining band, Morgan had been here the longest. He'd only signed up to teach her and Sebast to play guitar, at the very beginning, and she'd sweet-talked him into joining another band. He'd since admitted he only agreed because he was trying to figure out how to ask Kala out – meanwhile Sebast had wanted to ask _him_ out. Things had settled out for the best, but he'd known them both long enough that the fight, and the breakup, weighed more on his mind than it did on Ned and Robb.

"I'm proud of me, too," Kala said, flashing false confidence in her smile. Morgan shook his head; he knew better. But now wasn't the time to call her out.

With a few last goodbyes, they all went their separate ways, Kala heading down a different concourse from Morgan and Ned. She slowed down, picking her spot carefully, aware of cameras in the ceiling.

It wasn't cold in Los Angeles, but Kala had worn a long, lightweight coat anyway. It made sense for the colder climate she was heading to, though she really wanted it for concealment. She slipped into a bathroom and quickly changed into her uniform, buttoning the coat over the suit and pulled her hair back into a bun. Her regular clothes went into the carry-on.

Then all she had to do was walk past a sign that read 'Authorized Personnel Only' like it didn't apply to her, and quickly make her way outside. She took off from close to the terminal, and launched _fast_. Not sonic-boom fast, but quick enough that she'd only be a brief, concerning blip on the control tower's radar.

Kala leveled off at sixty thousand feet, well above the planes, and started soaring eastward. She was heading _home_, and already felt the stress of the tour rolling off her.

…

Thanksgiving, and _everyone_ was at the Manor. Babs and Dinah had come over, they'd roped Helena into it, Tim emerged from his room over an hour before the food hit the table, and Selina dropped by. Jay didn't know that until her cat stole a shrimp right out of his hand, and had the audacity to eat it sitting right next to him. "Are you fuckin' serious?" he complained. The cat glanced up, green-gold eyes somehow far too knowing, and then dismissed him utterly.

He took another shrimp from the appetizers spread out on the coffee table, looking around the living room for some sympathy. Dick was trying to convince someone to play board games, and so far only Dinah had taken the bait, but she refused Monopoly outright. Babs was watching the news on her tablet even as she munched on some canapes. Tim was on his phone, texting – either Sandsmark or Superboy, Jay didn't know which. Bruce was reading something, too, and when Jay glanced over, he realized with a snort that it was Capespotting. "Whatever you do, B-man, don't read the fanfic," he laughed.

Bruce arched an eyebrow at him, but the damn cat stepped onto his shoulder, leaning out to steal the next shrimp. "No," Jay said firmly, and the cat blinked at him. Then she moved toward the shrimp again, and he pulled it out of her reach. "I said _no_, dammit, you're a cat. Cats don't get hors d'ouvres."

"She doesn't know that. And Miss Kitty wouldn't listen even if she did," Selina said, walking up behind the couch and running a gentle hand down her cat's spine. She got a purr in response, and took a napkin, picking out a selection of appetizers that she piled on it before placing them on the arm of the sofa.

Miss Kitty settled down to eat them happily, and Jay shook his head even as Selina sat down beside him. "You're feeding her _caviar_, Selina. Seriously?"

"Not too much," she protested. "It's too salty to be good for her, but she just wants a taste of what we have."

"Yeah, she needs to not steal mine," Jay grumbled, reaching for one of the fruit and cheese skewers next. "Does she get the theft from you, or do you get it from her?"

Selina rolled her eyes at him, but Babs spoke up then. "I'm less interested in a cat or cat burglar debate, and more interested in a bank robbery."

"Barbara," Bruce said warningly.

Babs looked up at him, unimpressed, and then turned to Selina. "What does Harley need a million dollars for?"

Jay had to admire Selina's moxie. He'd seen coverage of the robbery, sure, and there was nothing there to _prove_ Selina had been involved … but they all knew she was. And yet Bruce hadn't said a word when she arrived, and now she was sitting with her legs crossed nibbling on caviar, just as bold as her cat.

She swallowed, and smiled at Babs. "Well, I'm _hoping_ she'll use it for running money. She and Pam are kinda tossing around the idea of getting out of this town."

Bruce frowned at her, and Jay just leaned against the arm of the couch, letting it play out. "Selina. Do you know where Harley is?"

Green eyes narrowed, and Jay wanted to chuck a pillow at Bruce. Way to ruin a nice relaxing Thanksgiving with family, and Alfred would probably have some very droll words to say if they managed to have a huge fight before the turkey was even on the table. But instead of getting pissed, Selina just shrugged. "Of course not. Bruce, you know I want the best for her. She's my _friend_. If I had any idea where she was right now, I'd tell you."

Jay looked across at Babs, who'd raised a skeptical brow. Dinah and Dick, who had settled on Risk and somehow convinced Helena to join them, even turned around at those words. Tim didn't look up from his phone, but he was definitely listening.

"Joker's awake. Harley isn't safe, wherever she is." Bruce stated that without ever admitting he doubted Selina.

She licked a bit of crème fraiche off her thumb. "I know. Arkham's for _damn_ sure not safe, either. If she gets locked up, Bruce, you might as well paint a target on her back, because he'll know right where she is and how to get to her. Harley's never going to be safe while he's alive, not after this. But then, who's safe? None of us are. This house is pretty secure, but we all have to go out in the world sometime. Hell, I could get hit by a bus crossing the street tomorrow."

The cat walked across Jay's shoulders to curl up on Selina's, purring, and Selina petted her head gently. Bruce just sighed. "This is not going to end well. You know that the same as I do."

Selina arched a brow, and turned to Jay. "Hey, Hood, you got any immediate plans to kill Joker while he's still in the hospital?"

The bald way she asked it made him laugh. "Fuck, Selina, if I was gonna do it, it'd already be done. Can't say I haven't thought about it, but shit, you'd all know it was me."

A wave of unease passed through the room, but Selina turned to Babs next. "What about you? I bet you could hack his monitors and triple his dose of morphine. No one would ever guess it was anything other than a malfunction."

Babs blinked at her, and Jay _didn't_ laugh at her affronted expression. "One, I don't do that. Two, the data feeds from IV pumps only go one way for a _reason_."

Selina frowned. "Huh, I really thought you could make that work somehow. Then again, if you can't do it, no one can. Helena, you don't have personal beef with Joker, do you?"

Helena looked at her in surprise, then said, "I gave up vengeance killing some time ago, Selina."

That got a chuckle from Selina. "You sound like you gave it up for Lent and just never started again. Okay then, that settles most of the morally-gray people in the room, except yours truly. And frankly, much as I'd like to see that bastard in the ground, the whole not-killing thing is one of the few advantages I have over your _wife_, Bruce."

Jay gritted his teeth, trying not to laugh out loud at Bruce's flummoxed expression. Selina _really_ wasn't pulling any punches tonight, no matter how playful she was. She looked at Jay, and put a theatrical finger to her lips. "Ooooh, there's a thought. Maybe I should call Talia and spend that million putting out a hit on Joker. She might not want to get her hands dirty, but the League of Shadows has assassins aplenty."

"Selina," Bruce scolded.

"Bruce," she shot back, and _now_ Jay saw the flash of her temper. "Look, you _know_ better than to ask me something like that. I'm not turning the girls in, even if I did know where they are, and they're smart enough to have moved since I last saw them because _everyone in this city knows we're sleeping together_. I swear, even Oswald knows there's a line I won't cross. I don't dime out my friends." A pause, and her mouth twisted. "Unless it's the only way to keep them safe, but hell. That was only once. And locking them both up would just be dangerous now."

"What did Penguin want to know that you wouldn't tell him?" Bruce asked, zeroing in on peripheral information the way he always did. Jay could almost admire that about him, if he hadn't been on the receiving end of it too often.

Selina scoffed. "The same thing _everyone_ wants to know. Pam asked me, too. I promise you this much, they're not gonna find out we have Supergirl running around town from _me_."

"They damn well _better_ not," Jay growled, unaware that his hands were unconsciously balling into fists.

At least, until Selina pinned the heel of her shoe against his throat, looking at him without surprise. She was goddamn fast, and he wouldn't have thought that the careless-looking way she'd been seated on the couch was a good defensive position. "_Down_, boy. I said I'm _not_ sharing that. Partly because yeah, I like the girl, she seems like something we could use a little more of around here. Mostly because when that news _does_ break, everyone's gonna lose their damn minds. She spooked Pam, and kicked poor Johnny's ass, so she's not just a Super, she's a Kryptonian with a _temper_. That whole thing with the roof when the kids were in trouble? Harv better watch himself if he runs across her."

Jay curled his lip, and shoved her foot away. "Yeah, she doesn't have a whole lot of patience for the bullshit. She even stood up to Joker."

Selina's eyebrows went up. "Oh yeah? I heard a different version of that. According to Harley – who also got her ass kicked, but Kala looked after Bud and Lou, so she gets a pass – all Joker said about crossing paths with Blur was that the two of you were disgustingly overprotective. Young love, blah blah blah. Which, yeah, obvious."

"Oh fuck off," Jay grumbled, the hair on the nape of his neck prickling. "If Bruce hadn't called her off, she would've crispy-fried the miserable fuck."

Selina leaned against the back of the couch, turned toward him. "Of course he wouldn't tell Harley he got trashed, too. But damn, Jay, have you two heard of _subtlety_?"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Everyone-in-this-town-knows-I'm-banging-Batman? _You're_ trying to lecture me on subtlety?" Jay challenged, trying to quell the unease. He'd told Kala his history with Joker. And her reaction was to get, well, Super-protective. Turn the fucker into a greasy smear kind of protective. Forget her dad's code or Bruce's, she'd have broken his jaw at minimum to shut him up. That was … terrifyingly reassuring, and just plain terrifying, all at the same time. Maybe Selina had a point about how the Gotham rogues would react.

To his surprise, Selina laughed. "Look, that's not my fault. He's the one who keeps letting me _go_. Even the most cynical bastard in this town knows it means something when Batman bends his moral code. They don't even realize I know his real name, I'm _that_ good."

Bruce frowned at her, and Selina just raised her eyebrows at him. Jay thought they'd stay locked into a staring match until Alfred called them all to the table, but into the silence Tim spoke up. "You don't actually have Talia's phone number, do you?"

Jay saw the disapproving look on Bruce's face, and chuckled to himself, thinking that was the oddest part of that conversation to fixate on. Selina just grinned. "Yeah, I do, actually. And she's got mine, as a matter of fact. I'm gonna make a shared calendar so we know who gets custody of Bruce when. Why, do you want me to call her up? You're old money, too, you wanna chip in on the Joker hit fund?"

That left Jay choking on laughter, both at Selina's droll delivery and Bruce's horrified expression. Much to his surprise, _Babs_ looked up thoughtfully. "Is it a rerouted number, or do you think you have her actual direct line? Because that could be extremely useful."

"Oh, it's got to be a reroute," Selina said. "I doubt her direct line actually rings, it's all call forwarding through a dozen numbers so the signal can't be tracked. Why, are you trying to track her down? Want me to call and ask just to see what she says?"

"Wait, since when are you _talking_?" Jay cut in, because Bruce looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. "What the fuck, Selina?"

"It's the prank war," she explained. "I signed her up for dating services, she created a fake dog training company in my name. Which Oswald already knows about, by the way, so I can hear about _that_ for the next ten years."

"You're pushing your luck," Babs warned.

Dinah, however, just crossed her arms and looked at Selina thoughtfully. "How'd you get her back for the dog training thing?"

Jay saw Selina brighten with the most smugly self-satisfied smile he'd ever seen. "You'll see. She hasn't found it yet. Hey Babs, if you _did_ have that number, could you track her phone through the reroutes and find out where she actually is? Because she's not gonna get my revenge until she goes back to her place in London."

That was enough to make Jay uneasy; he remembered Talia's London flat too well. How the hell Selina had even gotten in … well, she _was_ Catwoman. If she could break into his building, he guessed she could break into Talia's place too. He just really hoped Selina hadn't taken one of a handful of prized antique weapons stored there. _That_ would really set Talia off. And he for damn sure didn't want to see this whole crazy prank war thing Selina had going on blow up in her face.

Babs, however, was answering her question. "I could try, but she's likely got safeguards against that. And I currently suspect she's in Libya. There's League of Shadows problems there."

Selina sighed, flopping back against the back of the couch. "Well damn. It's been long enough now that she probably thinks I'm just gonna let it go. I don't want her to think I'm scared or anything."

"Please tell me you didn't steal something from her," Jay finally said. "I mean, we saw the bracelet, but jewelry's not a big deal. She has plenty of it. Selina, if you took something she actually cares about…"

"I didn't _take_ anything," Selina insisted. "I just left her something. She'll see it whenever she gets back to London."

Jay rubbed a hand over his face. "If you did something ridiculous like leave a pound of Limburger cheese in her fridge, Selina, I swear…"

"Relax, Hood," Selina laughed. "I don't do gross-outs. Besides, I'm sure she has a service to clean up before she gets back. Probably has Daddy's henchmen do it. I don't think any maid service would come back, with all the weapons in that place."

Jay looked at her narrowly. "I hope to God you didn't mess with any of her weaponry. Last I checked, she keeps some of the personal stuff in London. That engraved Python revolver that was made for a prince is locked up there, when she's not carrying it. I _know_ she'd kill over that gun."

And never mind how Dick was frowning, or how calculatingly Babs and Bruce were eyeing him. They ought to know this stuff, too. Talia was particular about her weapons. She had drop guns like every other killer, but there were certain swords and knives, certain pistols like the Python, and at least one sniper rifle that Talia was _very_ careful about. If Selina had scratched the finish on the Python, or chipped the enamel on the hilt of that one Egyptian sword, there'd be hell to pay. It wouldn't be a series of pranks anymore, it'd just be _war_. And Jay liked Selina well enough to not want that to happen.

She reached out and patted his hand. "Relax, Jay. I'm not foolish enough to mess with any weapons owned by the Queen of Assassins herself. This is strictly high school, college level prank stuff. I mean, more expensive, obviously, but she can afford it. We're both having fun with it."

"And _that_ is the most bizarre sentence I've heard in my life," Dinah declared.

Selina just shrugged. "She's not going away. I've gotta deal with her if I wanna keep playing with him. And sue me, I've got a soft spot for big dumb handsome men who share my love of cosplay."

Bruce just stared at her, but Tim apparently felt the need to defend him. "You do realize he exceeds all the requirements for Mensa membership, right?"

She just chuckled. "Oh yeah, he's brilliant. World's Greatest Detective, IQ second only to Lex Luthor, card-carrying genius. In emotional intelligence, though, he makes Forrest Gump look like Einstein."

That made _all_ of them laugh, with a horrified edge to it. Dick was the one who actually said, "_Damn_, Selina! That is _cold_!"

"It's not a lie," she said, raising her hands. "_Someone_ has to speak truth to power. And he loves me for not ever lying, not even to make him feel better. Besides, I admit the man has come a long way. Here he is, Mr. Stoic, eating hors d'ouvres and reading the news with his whole family. Ten years ago this much domesticity would've sent him out the window in the Bat-suit."

"Can't really argue that," Jay said thoughtfully. Bruce just kept his mouth shut, which maybe proved he was smarter than even Tim though – or he just knew better than to argue with Selina when her claws were already out. "Hell, there've been times when most of _us_ would head out the window. There's a lot of fuckin' neuroses and bad coping mechanisms in this room, not to mention some really checkered history."

"But we're all here anyway. And I'd _love_ to take the credit for that, but really, it's Alfred." Selina smiled even as she said it, looking toward the door, where Alfred had just appeared.

"I'm certain I have no idea what you mean, Miss Kyle," he told them in his most formal tones. "However, I must announce that dinner is nearly ready. I do require some assistance getting the larger items to table."

Jay stood up, along with Dick and Tim, because helping Alfred carry plates meant getting the first chance at the food. No one would miss a small slice of turkey or a broken bit of pastry. Dick looked at him, and grinned, both of them remembering what it was like as a kid, striving for that first bite mostly because Bruce would scold them, gently, if he caught them at it. Jay's thing had always been sneaking bits of meat off the turkey carcass while Alfred carried the carved platter into the dining room.

It gave him pause today, snatching a scrap off the breastbone for old times' sake, before carrying the first ham out. Jay could remember the first time he'd sat down to a meal like this, being awed by the sheer amount and variety of food on the table. Not even in the good years with Willis and Catherine had he _ever_ had a meal like a Wayne Manor Thanksgiving. It was a level of decadence he hadn't thought existed outside of fiction, much less that he'd ever be able to eat as much as he wanted. Even with months of good meals, he'd been damn near comatose after his first major holiday here as a kid.

And then, for a while, he'd been certain that not only would he never set a welcome foot in the Manor again, but that he didn't _want_ to. Jay had told himself that he didn't miss his old life, didn't miss his late childhood and early adolescence here, that his sense of betrayal was stronger than those good memories. He'd focused on the bad ones instead to fuel his hatred, and let his outrage burn hot enough to keep him warm through the loneliness.

Now? Here he was again, sitting down to dinner with people he'd tried to kill, and they _liked_ him being here. And he even liked being here with them. Basically all the Bats were under one roof, and no one had gotten shot yet. Hell, no one was even _drunk_. It was … weird. But good.

…

Thanksgiving in Smallville had turned out to be the easiest way for Elise and Jason to handle the holiday. They didn't have to do anything, really – Elise gladly turned her kitchen over to Mr. Kent, and went to relax on the couch. She could hear kids running around outside – some of the younger cousins were playing with the kids of the older cousins. Elise leaned back, sipped spiced cider, and was glad there were plenty of genuine adults around to supervise them.

She didn't feel quite like enough of an adult, herself, even with the twins growing steadily and her work progressing. Let someone old enough to be _her_ parent take charge. Jason was in the middle of it with them all, being a good host, but Elise had been told in no uncertain terms by Lois Lane-Kent herself to take it easy. As the only other mother of twins, Lois had adamant that Elise needed to relax while she could.

Lois had also told her, quietly, about meeting with Sebast a few days ago. He'd gone away from it with a lot to think about, but everyone was hoping that he and Kala could salvage their friendship. From the way Lois spoke, Elise wondered if she knew the two had been trending toward more than friends – but she wasn't going to bring _that_ up. It was still too potentially explosive, and Kala was going to arrive shortly anyway.

So she lounged, and listened to half a dozen conversations. Someone had to talk football, with Sam Troupe debating the merits of various teams, getting some chiding from Richard and his own father Ron. Clark came in to support him in rooting for the underdog, but he was a Chiefs fan. Lana, Lucy, and Lucy's oldest girl Nora were in the kitchen at the moment, keeping an eye on the turkey and setting up side dishes, talking lightly about the flight out and their Black Friday plans. Nora's husband had gotten sidetracked by the conversation between Lois, Maggie Sawyer, and Tobie Raines, who were planning to set up the trap machine and shoot some clay targets either after dinner, or tomorrow morning.

Outside were Kristin, Sam's kids, Nora's daughter, Joanna and Michelle Troupe, all watched over by Cat Grant and her boyfriend Ian. Cat was still keeping a watchful eye on her son Adam, but the younger kids were being reasonably good. The Hubbard grandchildren had wandered over, too. Luckily the weather had been oddly warm this week, and there was no snow on the ground for them to start snowball fights. Last Elise had checked, there was a complicated variation of hide and seek going on, although how anyone could hide with a dozen Hubbard and Kent beagles running around, Elise didn't know. Almost everyone in the family had dogs, but they hadn't been subjected to the flight – except Bagel, who was getting up in years and whose attendance had been requested by Kala.

Kala had wanted to see her dog, after an awful week, and though Lois had crabbed about Bagel being _their_ dog for the last ten years at least, they'd brought Bagel along. Elise turned to look at Kala, on the other sofa, and smiled to see Bagel sprawled out with her. Kala had flung an arm around the snoring dog, and the two looked like the definition of after-dinner nap.

Except, dinner hadn't been served yet, and normally Kala would be in the middle of all of everything, teasing the football fans, threatening to out-shoot her mother, and sneaking into the kitchen to ogle dessert. If not outright steal a cookie. She'd take her turn playing with the younger kids, always willing to make up something new on the spot or join them at board games or video games.

Of course, normally her partner in crime would be right there with her. If they were doing Thanksgiving in Metropolis, Sebast would eat with his parents around midday and then come over to the Kents' place for dessert. If the tour was on the road and they were dining in Smallville, sometimes he'd come with Kala to Kansas, depending on how things were with his parents. Even if he wasn't there, Sebast would always call her, or text her pictures of the food at his parents' house. Everyone in the extended Lane-Kent-White-Troupe family had grown used to hearing about Mikey's latest shenanigans or what Sebast's abuelita had said after a glass of rum. They always asked Kala what he was up to lately.

This year, everyone had been forewarned about the band issues and that Kala and Sebast weren't speaking, so no one had asked. There'd been plenty of discussion before she got there, of course; the idea of Kala and Sebast _not_ being platonic life-mates was disturbing. Elise had found herself biting her tongue; too much of the reasons why were bound up in the other family history. The story they were going with was as close to the truth as they could safely get: that Kala was dating a guy Sebast didn't approve of.

Of course, that led to a whole other set of problems, namely speculation on who the guy was and why he wasn't with her at Thanksgiving. On the whole, it was probably best that Kala had come in, hugged everyone, scarfed up half the spinach dip, and then passed out. They'd been able to put off most questions by Lois' grumpy-sounding complaint that _she_ hadn't even met the guy yet, so he wasn't going to be subjected to extended family interrogation when the relationship was only a few months old.

No one in the subset of family who knew the secret wanted to deal with all the baggage of Kala dating a Wayne boy. That would take a _ton_ of explanation, and pique everyone's interest. Elise knew Kala would hate that scrutiny, and from what she'd heard of Jason Todd, he'd explode from too much extra attention. Unlike the rest of the boys, he had no social media, and none of the news connected to the Waynes ever mentioned him.

Elise sighed quietly. She and Jason had told everyone who asked – and many of them asked – that they'd spoken to Sebast, that he was okay, and that he, Kala, and the label were working on patching things up. But it was still the juiciest news of the year, and half of them were reporters. They couldn't help being interested.

Her falling asleep like this, clearly exhausted from running the tour by herself after kicking her manager out, had turned them all toward feeling sorry for her. Elise knew Kala would _hate_ that, if she were awake for it. She'd rather be in trouble than be pitied.

As if she were aware of Elise's thoughts, Kala's brow furrowed in sleep. She shifted, looking uncomfortable, and jostled Bagel. The little dog picked her head up, looked around blearily, then hopped down to the floor and headed into the kitchen. Kala still frowned, and shook her head, her hand gripping the pillow.

Elise got to her feet, massaging her back briefly, and made her way over to the other couch. A year ago she would've sat down on the floor, but right now, she didn't think she could stand up on her own if she did that. Her center of gravity was too wonky. So she leaned against the arm of the sofa, and ran her hands through Kala's hair, trying to soothe her without waking her.

Jason came in then, and headed right for Kala. Elise raised an eyebrow at him. "Nightmare," he said solemnly, and dropped to one knee beside his twin. Touching her shoulder gently, he leaned in close and murmured to her in Kryptonese.

Yeah, that was a risk, but Elise had heard about Kala's nightmares. Her having one in a house full of people who _didn't_ know the family secret was a bigger risk. They didn't need Kala searing a wall with heat vision, or kicking a couch apart. Elise knew the language even if she couldn't speak it well, and Jason told his sister over and over again that she was safe and well, that she could rest, no harm would find her.

Her eyes opened, and she looked at him, her sleep-rough voice asking in the same language, _[Where am I, brother?]_ That was never _not_ going to freak Elise out just a little. Kala sounded like a native speaker, more so than Jason.

He answered her in English. "My house. It's Thanksgiving, you zonked out on the sofa. Having nightmares again, Kal?"

She sat up, scrubbing a hand over her face. "I can't remember. It was … I lost something, I was trying to find it, something else was trying to find me. I don't remember _what_, though." Kala scoffed, and Elise could see her armoring herself against the exhaustion and any unwelcome questions. "I'm disappointed, honestly. Usually my nightmares are a lot more specific, and more operatic."

Elise bit her lip. She'd been around long enough to know there were two main fears that cropped up in Kala's subconscious: Zod, and the ocean. Neither of which she deserved to have, and if it had been up to Elise, Luthor would pay for it.

Jason just leaned in and kissed his sister's forehead. "Well, Mothra, I'm gonna assume that's just another symptom of being so tired you can't even go pester our cousins. You always have to take everything a step further – I'm not surprised you're not just burning the candle at both ends, you're running a Bic along the thing, too."

She started to smile, but it crumpled. "Yeah, I … I probably am."

He glanced up at Elise, who nodded, guessing what he was about to say. "Go up, then. We'll cover for you. How long's it been since you got properly sunned up?"

Kala laughed weakly. "There hasn't been time for that."

"Is it because you're running back and forth between coasts?" Jason asked.

Hazel eyes narrowed. "No, Jase. I haven't been to Gotham in almost two weeks. I've barely spoken to him. The label's dropped me into this headfirst. I fired Derek, so they're making me do _all_ the managerial shit, including hotel reservations, on top of lead singer. Pretty sure I'm going to get pulled into the Principal's office before the break actually starts. And I've got to wrangle the boys, which I'm happy for Robb but if I take my eyes off him for two seconds, he's either calling Jennifer or running off to meet her. I'm gonna put one of those backpack leashes on him, I swear."

"Have you talked to Sebast at all?" Jason asked.

She looked heartbroken. "No."

Elise stepped in. "Okay, here's what we're gonna do. You're gonna go up for an hour. I'll lock myself in the bedroom; Jase, you tell them I'm having a pregnant crisis and need my sister-in-law to tell me I'm still beautiful when I look like I swallowed a basketball."

Kala laughed softly. "You sound like Mom."

"I feel like your mom did," Elise replied, reaching out for Jason's shoulder. "Only I got lucky, and I have my family to help me."

Giving her a watery smile, Kala said, "Yeah, if Lizardboy tries to leave you to find a planet, I'll knock the shit outta him. Elise – I love you. I love you both."

"Yeah, we love you too," Jason said. "Not like we had a choice. Don't fall asleep up there, okay? You'll leave too big of an impact crater."

"Great, now he's calling _me_ fat," Kala joked, and levered herself off the couch. She hugged Jason tight, the two of them holding on. Elise watched them, thinking that Jason had known she was having a nightmare even while he was several rooms away. It hurt him so much to see her upset, but they couldn't put the pieces of Kala's life back together for her. And she wouldn't have appreciated them trying, either.

Kala and Elise slipped away upstairs, and after Elise locked the door, Kala slid the window open, checked for observers, pressed a quick kiss to her sister-in-law's cheek at super-speed, and flew. Elise closed it gently behind her, privately hoping her own twins _didn't_ get flight. It was awfully useful, but she didn't relish the idea of trying to keep up with kids who could literally fly away.


	18. And Cuts You in the Dark

**Authors' Note:** Sorry this is a day late - a certain scene was intended to be shorter, but it decided to run long on us unexpectedly. We also didn't think it would be an issue; reviews have fallen off around the holidays, so we weren't sure how closely anyone was following.

That said, be forewarned. There's some very graphic violence in this chapter. It's pretty much one of the most painful things we've ever written. Just trust us ... we've never written a story that didn't have a happy ending.

Eventually.

* * *

Jason shrugged into his coat, grumbling. "You know, they offer international shipping these days."

"Yeah, and it's expensive for perishable stuff," Kala countered. This was her last day before she had to head back to the tour again, just a few more shows before she was free, and she intended to spend it on a time-honored tradition. "Plus we can browse the markets while we're there. Come _on_, Dopey, don't be a wuss."

He buttoned his coat closed, patting his pocket to make sure his wallet was safely zipped inside. That was at least the third time he'd checked, and she knew it was a delaying tactic. "Yeah, but you can afford it. Rock star and all – the lavish lifestyle is part of your whole aesthetic, isn't it? Besides, we're breaking the law, too, not going through Customs."

She rolled her eyes extravagantly at him. "_Jase_. My dear, darling lizard-brother. We break the law every freaking _day_. We're _vigilantes_. Also, if you wanna make the argument that we're illegally crossing borders, please remember that Dad is very much an illegal alien to start with, and no one checks _his_ visa when he saves the day."

"We're not saving the day, we're just shopping," Jason argued.

"And you're an enormous chickenshit about flying with me," Kala said, and clucked at him accurately enough that the hens in the yard picked their heads up curiously.

"Maybe if you didn't fly like a fifteen year old on a caffeine bender showing off their new drone, I wouldn't be rightfully scared of us crashing into a jet," he shot back.

"I have _never_ crashed into _anything_," Kala retorted. "Also I know most of the major flight paths by heart now. Seriously, Jase, if you're really that upset, I can fly slower. But it'll take hours to get there."

He looked at her for a long moment, shook his head, and then stepped close. "I love you, adrenaline junkie. Let's just get it over with, okay? I can't help it, I don't like flying even if it's on a plane."

"I'm surprised you can even handle flea-hopping," Kala told him, sliding her arms around him. Jason had only gotten bigger and stronger and sturdier with time, until embracing her once-weedy brother was like hugging a refrigerator.

"I don't even like jumping. The falling part really sucks. Sometimes it's the best or only way to get where I need to be, so I do what I have to." Jason gripped her shoulders, his face scrunched up in concentration.

Kala checked around with vision and hearing, making sure there wasn't a car nearby. Most of the time, people didn't really look _up_, so as long as she got above the usual sight-line quickly she could take off almost anywhere and not blow her cover. Out here, though, they had to be more careful that no unusual phenomena became attached to the Kent farm. So she scouted out the surroundings, and when she took off, she did it _fast_.

Subjectively, it didn't feel too fast to Kala. One moment her boots were on the grass, the next she had only air under her toes, soaring upward at just under the speed of sound. The wide blue sky above didn't give too many points of reference for her actual speed, and she wasn't pushing it so hard that the wind resistance became a nuisance. It was just flying, to her, not scary at all.

Jason clutched her shoulders, making an entirely unmanly sound, and Kala was a good sister because she didn't laugh at him. Even if she dropped him from this height, it wouldn't actually hurt him. He'd leave an impact crater where he landed, if he couldn't creak his fall, but even if he just dropped like a stone it wouldn't _hurt_ him.

But she still didn't tease him, because pain wasn't what scared Jason. Being out of control was, and Kala actually _liked_ feeling as though she was skidding along the surface of her ability to control events, pushing herself to reckless extents. It was no fun when her whole life was ordered by external forces – much of the reason she'd hated Derek was his controlling tendencies – but being truly _beyond_ control was addictive. Sometimes when she was up in the ionosphere and completely sunned up, she'd just close her eyes, lie back, and let herself free-fall through miles of empty air, gravity snatching her up greedy as a lover. To fall like that was a delicious delight, and she waited as long as she could before catching herself and pulling up. So far she'd only gotten her boots wet doing it, kicking through a wave as she caught herself mere feet above the ocean, and that had been the best time of all.

She didn't tell Jason any of that, because he would probably break out in hives and never fly with her again. Once she reached the right altitude, Kala turned toward the sun that shone so much brighter up here, and flew into it. They leveled off, Jason's arm around her shoulders and hers around his waist, and he relaxed into the flight now that they were bathed in golden light. Jase didn't get quite as many proper sunbaths, not like Kala who could hover up here whenever she chose.

This was faster than she dared to fly with Jay, the landscape below blurring into a smear of green and brown. Jason studiously didn't look down, his face turned up to the sun, his eyes closed. Kala did glance at the ground, seeing Florida blip past like a hitchhiking thumb stuck out from the continent, and then they were over the ocean.

She had to steer then, seeing the coastline of Europe ahead, and Kala adjusted course a little. Jason winced, as always, when the land rushing toward them revealed their speed again. At least he didn't offer commentary.

Kala was careful not to cross any prohibited airspace, and she set them down just off Boulevard Haussman. It wouldn't be Christmas shopping without a trip through the grands magasins; all of the huge Belle Epoque department stores were beautifully decorated for the season. Now that they were firmly on the ground, Jason caught her hand and tugged her along, heading for the gourmet food section in Printemps. Kala laughed, and let him pull her.

Jason shopped like a man on a mission. Kala liked to browse, wandering into any store that caught her eye. He had certain specific things he wanted, which were only available in certain stores, and he made a plan for hitting all his favorite places. This day was mostly about the two of them getting to hang out, though, so she didn't mind keeping to his pace. After all, he did relax a little at the Galerie Vivienne, browsing through antique books while Kala eyed the Gaultier windows.

Eventually they broke for lunch at a little cafe, just a quiet place that only they and the locals knew, but Kala sighed contentedly at finally being able to sit down and watch the city flow around her. If she hadn't had super-stamina and invulnerability, her feet would've been sore by now.

Jason had polished off his salad and sandwich, and was eyeing the dessert menu. Kala lingered more over hers, thinking about taking Jay to Paris. He'd probably already been, globe-trotter that he was, and she wondered if he had a favorite cafe. Some small family-run place like this, maybe. She tried to imagine Jay doing the tourist thing, wandering through museums, climbing the Eiffel Tower.

"Whatcha thinkin'?" Jason asked disingenuously, and Kala laughed. At herself, and at the shrewd look in his eyes.

"Mostly just wondering if I should split dessert with you or get my own," she replied lightly. Another quiet chuckle at her own romanticism; she was seriously thinking about visiting Paris with her boyfriend. Oh, she had it _bad_.

Jase grinned. "Get your own. I'm not sharing."

"Rude," she laughed, and caught the waiter's eye.

Once they'd both ordered, Jason leaned forward, looking at her. "So, how're things with Todd?"

She wrinkled her nose immediately. "You sound like Aunt Maggie. Don't call him by his last name, please."

"Well, I don't like calling him by my own name," her brother replied.

Kala sighed, rubbing her temple. "Okay, you're Jason, or Jase. Or Iguanaman. He's Jay, or Hood. If I can keep it straight, you can too."

"One, I really hope you can remember the right names, because if not, _eww_," Jason replied, looking pained. "Two, I was kinda happier when you _weren't_ keeping it straight. Speaking of Marlene, heard anything from the label about the manager situation?"

Kala stuck her tongue out at him. "Hey, I don't pick on your bromance with Tim. And no, the label hasn't said anything. Yet. They're leaving me to pick up the pieces, but I know a drama-bomb is coming. Also even if I do by some miracle get Marlene back, that doesn't mean I'm gonna break up with Jay. Who knows, she might actually be in a relationship."

It was Jason's turn to sigh. "She's nice. I hope whatever she's doing, she's happy. And I hope you're happy, too, which is why I asked about Jay."

Blinking at him, she decided to take him at his word. "Okay. We're both busy right now, so I haven't heard much more than occasional text. He was at the Manor for Thanksgiving, though, I know that much. Alfred wouldn't have it any other way."

"Alfred is awesome," Jason said fondly. He took a sip of lemonade, and then asked, "So is Jay coming to Christmas with us?"

She found herself choking on a last bite of her sandwich, coughing and wheezing alarmingly until she got it down. "_Shit,_ Jase! Don't do that!"

"It's a reasonable question!" he said, defensive, even while he pushed his half-full drink toward her. Her own was empty, so she took a swig to soothe her throat, and he let her swallow before continuing. "C'mon, Kala, you've been dating the guy since August. I figured you'd _want_ to bring him to stuff. And since we're doing in Smallville, I figured I'd go ahead and invite him to Christmas dinner."

Kala rolled her eyes, feeling squeezed in by the pressure of family expectations. "Okay, first, we haven't been _dating_ since August. We've been _sleeping together_ since August. The dates started … late September? Early October? I don't even know. We didn't put a name to it for a while. We're not you and Elise."

He frowned a little, thoughtful. "Even if we're talking October, Kala, that's two months. I know I jumped the gun like, a lot, but two months is meet the family time."

She groaned. "For normal people, maybe, which neither of us are. And the Bats aren't like us, Jase!"

"Look, Kala, how do you really feel about this guy?" Jason asked, his brow still furrowed. "Because if you don't want him around your family…"

Scowling back, Kala told him, "It's not that! Look, it's weird because we already _know_ each other's parents. And I'm not trying to push things here, all right? Most of the reason why he and Donna split up was because things got too domestic. She wanted something that he doesn't even know how to do. The guy was practically a feral child, and then a rich man's ward. He hasn't got the first clue about normal middle-class Midwestern family stuff. Not like the Waynes are within shouting distance of normal."

"And we are?" Jason said, raising a very Lois-like eyebrow.

"We try to be," Kala replied. "Mom and Dad did their best to give us a normal childhood. We went to public school, we watched cartoons, we got allowances, we did chores. He went from stealing tires to survive at thirteen, to putting on a mask at fourteen. Alfred loves them all as much as he possibly can, but _none_ of them are used to being … warm and open, like us. Dick tries, he's the best at it, but no one else in that house is comfortable with it. And Jay? God, Jay would explode into a thousand bats and flap off into the night if Daddy Richard tried to get him into an ugly Christmas sweater for photos."

That mental image _did_ make Jason chuckle. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I can't imagine Tim at one of our Christmases, either. But Kala … you know they're gonna ask. We had to play divert-the-questions at Thanksgiving already, and half our family is _reporters_. Sooner or later, they're gonna want details."

Kala leaned her head into her hands, letting her breath out slowly. "Sooner or later I may decide to share some details. But … it's still too _new_. For both of us. I've never _done this_ before, Jase. Not with another cape. And shit, his dating history is … massively fucked. He's never done this before either."

He reached across to take her hands. "Look, Kal, you're my sister. I love you. If you're happy, I'll dodge questions for as long as you want."

"I am happy," she admitted with a lopsided smile. The only thing that would make her happier would be having Sebast back in the band, back in her _life_, but there was no way to do that without a whole host of other complications.

"Good," Jason said. "Maybe between now and Christmas we can work out some kind of cover story."

She winced a little, giving him a hesitant smile. "We'll have to. Jase … Alfred invited me to Wayne Manor for Christmas. Well, after Christmas, anyway. Any time Christmas week, really."

He raised a dark eyebrow at her, but instead of telling her off, Jason just shook his head with a very Jason smile, sunny and wry at the same time. "At least they do _one_ thing like normal people. And he gets to bring his girlfriend for the holidays."

"No, _Alfred_ does something like normal people," Kala pointed out. "I still don't know how Jay feels about it."

"If he's not thrilled to have you there, I'll kick his ass for you," Jason said, too eagerly, and Kala mimed throwing her napkin at him.

At least they were saved further conversation by the waiter arriving with dessert.

…

Harley counted bills just for the fun of it, really; she trusted Selina not to stiff them. It was nice just to hold a thousand dollars in her hand, test the weight of the bills, then break the band and count through them leisurely. One hundred hundred-dollar bills. And she had _two hundred and eighty_ stacks like this, almost three hundred grand, all hers. Which meant Selina had paid Oswald mostly out of her own share, most likely, but hey, she could afford to be generous. She _was_ dating that himbo billionaire Bruce Wayne, a fact that amused Harley. She wondered if the guy knew about Batman, or Holly Robinson, or any of Selina's other dalliances. Probably not, but then, Harley didn't judge other people's romantic issues.

She'd handled more money at various times, back in the day – she'd once slipped seven million dollars worth of loose diamonds into her cleavage for safekeeping – but this was all hers, and hers alone. Every other time she'd had her hands on enough cash or valuables to make her feel lightheaded, it belonged to someone else. Usually Joker.

Her mouth drew down into a scowl at the mere thought of his name, rage twisting her chest and blanking her vision out with red. Some small part of her mind – the part that used to wear glasses just to look older and wiser and more _clinical_, what a sap – noted the reaction, murmured about flashbacks and delayed responses, and contemplated therapeutic options.

Most of her believed the best therapy would be beating Joker's laughing face in. And not stopping, this time, just really going to town on him, swinging until her arms were tired and his entire face was red pulp. A baseball bat or a mallet would make it impossible to get into the hospital, but an IV pole could come in handy. It'd take more hits to do the kind of damage she wanted, with less mass, but she was nothing if not determined.

And Harley sighed, dropping her head into the pile of banded bills on her bed, because no one would let her do what she really wanted. Even if she did manage to break into the hospital, someone would call the cops or a Bat before she was finished obliterating Joker. She might get to kill him, but she wouldn't get to _destroy_ him. The only way she'd ever manage that would be to get him alone someplace where she could really take her time. Torture wasn't her thing, she'd prefer to kill him quickly, but there was a certain satisfaction in lingering over methods of dismemberment and dissolution. Maybe just a really good wood-chipper…

_Violent revenge is rarely as cathartic as we expect it to be,_ Dr. Quinzel murmured in her head.

"Shut up, Doc," Harley whispered aloud.

How was she supposed to deal with this, anyway? A couple weeks of freedom – _real _freedom, not just a temporary reprieve from the abuse, time spent with someone who actually _did_ like her company, who _wanted_ her here, and who was damn near _ecstatic_ at the thought of her never leaving again – was finally showing her just how _wrong_ her relationship with Joker had been. At least once a day, she said something or did something or just laughed a little too loud, and caught herself thinking, _Uh-oh, Pam hates it when I do that, here we go,_ and Pam just … didn't. One of the most feared villains in Gotham, arguably the most powerful of all the rogues, and her typical expression of annoyance was to roll her eyes and tug Harley close for a kiss. Usually while murmuring, "_Please_ stop that," but still. It was kind of a head trip when Harley kept expecting a fist in the gut or the kind of scathing diatribe that would bring tears to her eyes. Or it would have, if she didn't already know crying would just get her beaten anyway.

On one level, Harley knew Pam was being very careful. This was exactly what she'd wanted, for Harley to leave Joker and stay with her, so she was doing that honeymoon thing where everything one's partner did was cute, at worst. And she wouldn't let herself express any anger she was feeling, anyway, knowing how vulnerable Harley was to it.

It really was a special kind of hell, being able to psychoanalyze herself and everyone around her.

On another level, she was waiting for the inevitable, for things to go bad, for Pam to turn on her, and she couldn't quite shake the feeling that she deserved it. Look how she'd treated Pam for years, using her and casting her aside over and over again. She'd come to Pam when she was broken, get patched up and nursed back to health and oh yeah, righteously laid, then run back to Joker again. It was horrible, and Pam would've been justified in cutting Harley off at any time. Surely she was justified in demanding a higher standard from her now, in expecting more, and enforcing it however she chose. Surely Harley deserved a little payback for making her suffer.

The thing was … _Pam_ didn't see it that way. Harley hadn't missed the fact that every plant in their hideout was currently flowering, never mind that it was December. Pam tried to be aloof, and she'd never been the most demonstrative person, but she made it very hard for Harley to doubt that she was wanted and loved and adored. She woke up every morning in Pam's arms, half a dozen times a day Pam would drop a kiss on her shoulder or just smile at her so indulgently that Harley's heart skipped a beat, and she damn sure didn't have to _beg_ for Pam's attention in the bedroom, either. Or the shower, or the living room, or on the kitchen counter, as a matter of fact, even if that last had been a little awkward when Selina showed up to bring them their share of the cash.

She was also cynical enough to know that the sheer amount of endorphins floating around in her system at any given time probably made her clinically high. Great sex was like that sometimes. The thing was, if Pam wanted her in a serotonin and dopamine haze, she didn't have to do it the old-fashioned way. One kiss could knock Harley off her feet, if Pam wanted; she was only immune to toxins, after all. Hell, Pam could do anything she wanted to Harley's mental state at any time. Any meal or drink or even a simple touch could've been laced with psychoactive substances. The thing that continually surprised Harley was how it just _never happened_. That wasn't an advantage most people would pass up. Hell, even Selina cut her a look like she'd cheerfully dope Harley's drink just to tone down her more frenetic moods. Pam _never_ did anything like that, unless Harley asked her to.

There were still some things they weren't talking about, and what to do next was the biggest one. Pam wanted out of Gotham; Harley was fine with that, really, but she wanted to kill Joker first. If she left while he was alive, it felt like running away, and she never wanted to run again.

Realistically, she knew there was a lot of _work_ in her future, the kind of work she'd always encouraged other people to do, without ever realizing how damn hard it was. There were coping mechanisms to unlearn, internalized negativity to dismantle, self-hatred and blame to root out. Harley just didn't feel like she could get started on any of that without putting Joker in the ground first.

A cold nose pressed her arm, and she rolled onto her side, reaching out to scratch Bud's head. A couple weeks of healing were doing wonders for him, too. The surgical drains were out, and his fur was growing back. He moved more freely now … but he was more cautious than he had been. For the time being, Lou was the top dog. Harley rubbed his big round ears, and murmured, "Besides, I owe him for you, don't I, Buddy-boy? Yeah, Mama's gotta show that bad man what happens to someone who hurts her little baby, yes she does. Mama's gonna teach him a lesson."

Bud just whined softly, leaning into her hand. "Maybe I'll feed him to you," Harley whispered. "Would you like that, Bud? Would you like to munch the hand that shot you? I don't know, baby, maybe he's so mean he'd make you sick. Maybe Mama will just have to settle for chopping him up into itty-bitty pieces. There's plenty of things in the bay that can eat 'im and not get sick."

Pam came to the door then, and Harley winced a little. Pam didn't exactly encourage her revenge fantasies; she didn't _discourage_ them, either, and probably had some of her own. Harley imagined Joker strangled by thousands of thorny vines, scraping his skin right off, caustic sap leaking into his bloodstream. She imagined that laugh of his choking on foliage, his eyes pierced by long thorns, his body torn apart by the same strength that tree roots used to shatter stone and concrete, his blood watering a garden of retribution. Oh yeah, she probably had _epic_ plans, and it wouldn't surprise Harley to learn that Pam was in favor of torture.

But that didn't mean Pam wanted to _talk_ about it. The more macabre her own personal feelings on the subject, the less she wanted to encourage Harley toward revenge. Maybe in her mind, this was the worst thing she could do to Joker – steal his Harley, and _keep her_, forcing him to live with the knowledge that Harley didn't need him.

Looked at that way, maybe running off to somewhere tropical was a good idea.

But for now, Pam had a serious look in her eyes, and Harley offered her a tremulous smile. Pam sighed, walking in, and nudged Bud gently aside to sit down beside Harley. She just rubbed Harley's back, and she looked worried.

Harley bit her lip. "I wasn't really serious," she said. "I mean, about the whole feedin' him to the boys thing. I just get so _mad_ about what he did to Bud…"

"You have a right to be angry," Pam murmured, her hand tracing slow, gentle circles over the tense muscles along Harley's spine. "I wouldn't blame you for that. Never."

Letting out a sigh, Harley asked, "Then … what is it?"

Pam bent down and kissed her temple, nuzzling against her hair for a moment that seemed to stretch far too long. "Have you looked at your phone in the last ten minutes?" she asked softly.

"No," Harley said, glancing at it where it lay on the bedside table, hooked up to her charger. "Why?"

The hand rubbing her back slowed, and finally stopped, Pam wrapping an arm around Harley's waist. When she spoke, her voice was soft and wary, close by Harley's ear. "I have someone in the hospital. Joker just broke out."

…

Jay and Kala were on patrol, just another ordinary night in the Rotten Apple, and they chased a couple of Dent's guys into a warehouse. The hair on the back of Jay's neck bristled, remembering Black Mask and the close call they'd had with his boys. He tightened down on that, though, focusing on the men fleeing from him.

Kala could've snatched them up in a heartbeat, but she was hanging back for him, pacing herself so he didn't get left in the dust. The way he had the last few times she'd broken out the full range of her powers. He grinned beneath his helmet at _finally_ getting her to be careful…

… but there was no hiding what she was, and what she could do. And no point in having a meta in Gotham if he didn't let her _use_ everything he'd taught her. "Go get 'em, Blur, I'll catch up," he laughed.

She laughed, too, and kicked in the speed just as the two men disappeared through a big rolling door.

Jay caught up seconds later, throwing himself through the door recklessly. Kala was there ahead of him, she'd handle any overt threat first, the only thing now was making sure he actually got a piece of the action. They must have been running uphill, because the warehouse opened into a basement, a damp concrete floor beneath his feet and pipes running along the ceiling overhead. The lighting was dim, and Jay automatically swung to his left, trying to put a wall at his back and assess potential threats.

Always the left. Most people turned toward their dominant hand when choosing a random direction, and most people were right-handed. So any opponent that knew how that about handedness and how un-random most choices were would expect him to be going right. Left gave him slightly better odds.

Jay heard laughter, in the dark, and all his senses went to high alert. _Joker_. Rage bloomed in Jay's chest; for all he'd hesitated, not wanting to kill without being certain of his own motives, he knew that faced with the clown himself he'd pull the trigger without a second's hesitation. And he had Kala here, she'd promised she wouldn't let him face Joker alone. God, how good it felt to know he had someone _on his side_, no questions asked, as he faced off against his nightmare.

"Show yourself, you fucking freak," Jay snarled, gun drawn.

Instead, he heard a pained whimper from the dark, and an icy fist clutched his guts. _Where was Kala?!_

"I'd rather show you something else, little dead bird," Joker crooned from somewhere.

The light was too dim, Jay tried to switch to night vision, but his helmet couldn't compensate. He threw it off in a fury, heart hammering, and roared, "Blur! Fall back!"

No answer, except a choked-off furious sound. Jay ran forward, not caring if he got himself shot. He heard another noise, a female voice in a wordless snarl of pain and rage, and he _knew_. His life was worthless if he didn't stop this.

Jay skidded into a small room, poorly lit by a dull green glow. To his horror, he saw the walls lined with green crystals, pulsing with that evil light.

"Hello, Robin," Joker murmured, and Jay swung around. Somehow Joker had gotten behind him … and he was holding Kala up by her throat.

By a crowbar pressed tight to her windpipe, cutting off her air, Joker yanking it back to keep Kala crushed against his chest. Her eyes were already wide and bloodshot, and she was still struggling, but just barely. If not for the kryptonite she could've wrapped that fucking crowbar around _his_ neck.

"_Kala!_" Jay screamed, and the cold cloak of battle-readiness hadn't dropped over him. All he felt was terror. He couldn't lose her, not like this, he couldn't watch the spirit in her eyes die. Not like _this_. She couldn't die in the dark at the hands of a madman, not when she was light and life and joy to him.

Bringing his gun up, he aimed squarely at Joker's eye, and pulled the trigger. Fuck the moralizing, fuck the doubt, fuck the repercussions, fuck all of it, he'd kill the sonofabitch to save Kala. He had plenty of time, once that bullet blew Joker's diseased brains out he could drag Kala out of her, get her into the light, she could heal damn near anything…

With inhuman speed, Joker yanked Kala up, into the firing line, and…

Jay _screamed_.

The bullet took her in the forehead. Green kryptonite everywhere, her invulnerability was gone, and that face he loved so much was suddenly just a mask, all the expression gone from it. Her features went slack, her eyes rolled up, and blood began to spill thickly from the bullet hole. And from her mouth and nose, blood like a waterfall, the mind that fascinated him turned to bloody mush by the impact of his bullet.

"_Whoops!_ Think you missed there, dead bird!" Joker cackled, _roaring_ with laughter. "Aw, too bad, so sad, guess you won't mind so much when I put _you_ down!"

He dropped her, just let her fall, and Jay scrambled to catch her, his mind short-circuiting. He couldn't stand to hear the sound of her body hitting the concrete floor. It couldn't be, this couldn't _happen_, he couldn't _let_ this happen. Kala couldn't die, not on his watch, not at the hands of the Joker, _not from Jay's own bullet_.

Jay just barely managed to catch her, Kala ragdoll-boneless in his hands, and the phrase _dead weight_ had never been more horribly accurate. He couldn't even scream, his throat locked up, and when he saw Joker raise the crowbar again, Jay didn't even think to fight. He just curled himself over her body and closed his eyes…

The sound of shattering glass woke him. Jay sat bolt upright in bed, soaked in sweat, aware of a terrible low groaning noise in his throat. All he could see was Kala's bloodied face … and then suddenly she was _right there_, absurdly dressed in pajamas with a trail of glass fragments sparkling like diamonds behind her all the way to the window. Her hands were on his shoulders, her voice was asking if he was okay, her eyes were frightened but _alive_, thank fucking God _she was __**alive**_, and he grabbed her like a drowning man seizing a life preserver. The way he yanked her close and clutched her tight would've bruised any mere human. Jay buried his face in her hair, took a deep breath of that candied-violet smell, and shuddered so hard he thought he'd rattle right out of his skin.

Kala ended up in his lap, her hands moving over his back, and he heard her speaking as if from a long distance away, saying everything was okay, it was just a nightmare, she was here and he was safe. _She didn't know_. He wasn't the one who needed protecting, _she_ was. And his own miscalculation had killed her in the nightmare.

It was _his_ bullet that killed her. Joker's handiwork, but _his doing_.

Jay took a deep gulping breath of air, but his lungs still ached. He tried again, and again, gasping desperately, but nothing eased the crushing weight on his chest. Kala tried to pull back and he clutched her even closer with a strangled wordless cry, still shaking uncontrollably. The pain in his chest only increased, and that would've made him laugh in any other circumstances, here he was dying of a fucking heart attack because of a stupid goddamn nightmare…

Kala managed to pull herself away just enough to look him in the eye, and catch his chin, holding him steady. "Look at me, Jay. Just at me. You're not having a heart attack. This is a panic attack. You're going to be okay, just stay with me."

He whined, his skin feeling too tight, his lungs burning. This _wasn't_ just panic, he was _dying_, he'd died before and it hadn't bothered him this much even then.

She cupped his jaw in that delicate hand that was stronger than his whole body, and told him in a low soothing voice, "I can hear your heart, Jay, it's _fine_. Fast, but fine. You're not dying, it just feels like you are. You have to breathe slower, you're hyperventilating."

A fragment of knowledge flicked across his mind – hyperventilating _could_ make a person feel like they were suffocating. But breathing slow was impossible when his whole body screamed for oxygen, when no matter how his lungs tore at the air it felt like nothing was getting in.

Kala pried one of his hands off her back and put it over her heart. "Jay, slow down. Breathe with me. In … hold it … and out." He could feel her chest rising, holding, falling. He could feel her heart, beating fast but not pounding out of her body like his own.

He tried to hold his breath, and it was shaky and weak and he let it out with a plosive rush, snatching at the air again. Kala kept murmuring to him to slow down, her voice almost hypnotic, and little by little he felt like he was getting some oxygen. Just enough to let him breathe _somewhat_ normally, but his chest still ached and his skin was still trying to crawl off his body and he still wanted to scream and run and hang onto her and never let go, all at once.

"It's okay, Jaybird, you're going to be okay, you'll stop feeling like this soon," Kala murmured reassuringly. "Panic attacks always end. I've been there, I know it hurts, but you're going to be okay. Just breathe, Jay, slow and easy."

"Jesus fuck I'm gonna die," he managed to whimper.

She looked at him, her hazel eyes so serious, and rubbed her thumb softly against his lips. "You'd better not. I won't let you."

He managed a half-crazed laugh at that, but it was helping. She was helping. The wild fear eating him up inside began to loosen. "Fuck, _Kala_, I … I dreamed…"

"It's not real. It's just a dream. It can't hurt you," she told him. "You're here, you're safe, I'm right here with you. I won't let anything happen. I won't let anyone hurt you. God help anyone who tries to."

Jay groaned, still shivering like he had the world's worst fever. His teeth were even chattering. Kala settled herself further into his embrace, and the warmth of her in his arms was helping. "Listen, my therapist taught me something to ground myself when I used to have panic attacks," Kala murmured. "I want you to try it, too, okay? It might help. Will you try this?"

He couldn't quite speak, but Jay managed to nod. Every breath was still shaky, but his chest was finally starting to loosen up. Maybe it wasn't a heart attack after all.

Kala took a deep breath and kissed his brow lightly. "It's a mindfulness thing, a countdown. I want you to find five things you can see, right now. Can you do that, Jay?"

_I see your face with a bullet hole in it,_ he thought, and whined again, tightening his arms around her.

"No, Jay, open your eyes. Five real things, right here in this room. Look around, this is what's real, this is what's here. Five things." She patiently stroked his cheek until he did open his eyes, looking at her first.

Her, real and alive and right here. No blood, no awful blank eyes, not a scratch on her. As a matter of fact the only thing on her… "Batman pajama pants. And my fuckin' shirt," he managed to gasp out.

Kala smiled like he'd just aced a calculus test, and for some bizarre reason her eyes teared up a little. "That's my Jay. Yeah, I sleep in your shirt when I can't sleep in your arms. Three more things?"

His eyes darted around the room. "Broken glass," he muttered.

"Sorry about the window. It's bullet-proof but not Super-proof," Kala murmured. "I'll call someone to fix it later. Two more?"

"Scotch," he mumbled, seeing the bottle atop his dresser. It had migrated over there at some point, instead of being on his night stand, and he really wished it was closer. Glancing at the nightstand, he saw his phone blinking, and named it as the fifth thing.

"Good, Jay. Now four different sounds." Kala moved her hands to his shoulders, rubbing slow, soothing circles into the tense muscles.

"Your voice," he said, feeling his heartbeat slow down at last. "My breathing."

"That's two. What else, Jay? Listen, focus," Kala told him.

There wasn't much to hear, the general rumble of city life outside wasn't something he could pinpoint. A rattle from the kitchen area spooked him for half a second, until he identified it and seized it as a sound to count. "Ice maker!"

"Good. One more," Kala said.

For a moment he was stumped, then Jay barked a shaky laugh. "Fuck. _My_ voice."

"Okay. You're doing good, Jay. Now, tell me three things you can touch."

She was still in his lap, and his hands spread out across her back. "You," Jay mumbled, relief in his voice.

"Two more," Kala reminded him, smiling.

He reached out with one hand, grabbed indiscriminately, and said, "Pillow." Then tossed it aside and put his hand on the hilt of the kris underneath. "Knife." The ornate handle was a soothing weight in his hand. The gun would've been better, but he would've had to look away from Kala to grab it.

"That's good, Jay," Kala replied. "All right, two things you can smell."

"Your perfume," was the easy answer, and he shoved his face into her throat to sniff it deeply. Candied violets, who would've fucking guessed _that_ would become his favorite smell. Only Kala could pull something that sweet off, on anyone else it'd seem like a little kid scent, but something about her made it warm and comforting and deeply _her_, so nothing else even entered his mind when he smelled it.

She shifted her hands, carding them through his hair, and said quietly, "Good. One more thing?"

Jay sniffed, but all he got was her. He had to sit back a little, not quite noticing how his heart and lungs were calming down from their frantic pace as he focused on her request. Another sniff, and he frowned. "Sweat. Fear-sweat. Ugh."

"We'll get a shower in a minute," Kala promised. "Last thing, Jay, something you can taste."

He swallowed, but his mouth felt dry. There was nothing there, not even the musty fuzz of impending hangover. For once he hadn't even had a shot last night – that was becoming more and more common of late.

So to taste something, he cupped the back of her neck and leaned in, kissing Kala, swiping his tongue over her lips. It was there, but faint. "Vanilla lip gloss," he said, with the ghost of a laugh.

Kala leaned her forehead against him. "Yeah, I gotta give you that one. Good, Jay. How do you feel now?"

"Better," he replied, surprised that it was true. "Like I ran five miles being chased by fuckin' wolves or some shit. Also, little bit like I'm still gonna explode."

"It'll feel like that for a little while," Kala murmured. "Then you're just gonna be tired. Just hollowed out, like you can't feel anything. Don't worry about it, everything resets back to normal eventually. Your body just dumped a month's worth of fight or flight chemicals into your blood all at once, that's all."

"Oh, well, fucking thank my body for that, I really needed that shit tonight," Jay said harshly. "Fucking bullshit."

She sighed, and kissed his cheek. "I'm here. I'll stay here until you're okay again."

Something finally occurred to him, and he looked at the shattered glass – the December air blowing cold into the room – and asked, "How did you get here? How did you know?"

Kala wrapped her arms around him. "Jay, I don't wanna talk about that now. Can you stand? Do you want a shower?"

Even in the midst of a panic attack, he was still too well-trained to miss that evasion. Jay took hold of her shoulders and stared at her intently. "No, tell me now. How did you know to come here?"

"Do you really want me to answer that? Even if it sets off another panic attack?" she asked.

"Fuck it, two for the price of one," Jay said. "_Tell me_."

Kala drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and cupped his face. "Your phone's blinking. You probably got a message, too. You were just too deeply asleep to hear it. Jay … Babs called me."

He knew, from the moment she hinted it might cause another panic attack he _knew_. "Joker's out," he said in a raspy voice.

"Yeah. You should probably call Babs, let her know you got the message," Kala said. "Let her know I'm here, too, I didn't respond to her. Once I saw her text and heard your heart rate, I just came as fast as I could."

Jay could only blink. "You can hear my heart from Kansas?"

"I can hear your heart from California," she corrected. "Vacation's over, I'm back at work for two weeks. Thank God the hotel had windows I could open or I'd have an expensive bill to pay there, too."

Jay just stared. This woman could _hear his heartbeat_ from the other side of the continent. And fly here in a handful of minutes to talk him down from a fucking panic attack. Jesus fuck on a motorcycle, _Super_ really was the right name for them, they exceeded every possible expectation without even trying. He clutched her tight to him again, pressing his face against her neck, and let out a groan. The words were right there, _God I love you so fucking much_, but he couldn't say them, not like this. He let his arms around her and the unashamed tears leaking from his eyes say it instead.

Kala stroked his hair, curling herself around him. "We've got to call Babs and let her know. And get clearance for the Roost. You can't stay here tonight with the window broken, it's too damn cold."

"Can't leave it open," he grumbled.

"You live on the thirty-fourth floor," Kala pointed out. "And you've still got tripwires and alarms. It'll be fine for one night. Now let me use your phone to call Babs. I left mine in California."

Jay sighed against her skin, and decided to let everything else take care of itself for a night. He could trust Kala. "Go 'head," he muttered, already feeling tired. "Gotta reset the 'larms."

She ruffled his hair and kissed the top of his head. "It's gonna be okay, Jaybird. I promise." But he tuned it all out, closing his eyes to listen to the steady, fearless beat of her heart, not even paying attention to conversation with Babs. All the safety he needed was right here.


	19. Alone With This Vision

One dead cop, two dead security guards, and a catatonic nurse left in his wake, Joker sauntered into his latest hideout. Armed, of course; he'd looted every kill, and was ready for whatever reception he might get. The boys might be glad to see him, or they might have decided to grow half a brain cell and try running things on their own.

The beauty of it was, whichever option turned out to be true didn't matter, because his men didn't matter. They were all just bit players on the grand stage of life, and no matter how many he lost or killed, there were always more to take the place of the fallen. Joker only kept a handful of really _important_ help, the kind he'd actually hesitate to throw in front of an oncoming car. Even those were expendable under the right circumstances.

He banged the door open on his way in, calling out, "Honey, I'm home!" in his most cheerful voice. Never mind that his right side was still a little slower and weaker than his left, or that his gait still dragged slightly. He was on the road to recovery, he'd be _fine_, especially with more opportunity for physical therapy out in the real world again. Rapid healing was part of the deal, as was perfect recovery.

Honestly, he would've guessed that most of his guys had fled. So it was slightly a surprise to hear chairs scraping back, and hurried footsteps coming his way. Joker didn't rush to meet them, making a show of checking his reflection in a cracked mirror hung up in the foyer.

That gave the men time to decide on their approach. They hesitated in the hall, shuffling and muttering, and Joker sighed as he raked his hair back into something like order. He watched their reflections without appearing to notice them, and when none made a move, he turned sharply toward them. "Hello, boys!" Joker called out, loud enough to make them flinch. "Did you miss me?"

"No," one man said, and Joker wished he could remember the guy's name. Or anything about him, anything that would make this spark of defiance feel personal or meaningful. Because the man was about to die, and he might as well have some kind of victory before he shuffled out of existence. Too bad, the guy was just another walk-on role, and he tried to square up now with false bravado. "You're done, Joker. You've been slipping since the Red Hood showed back up, and now you let _Harley_ kick your ass? You should've stayed in the hospital."

Joker sighed, tilting his head back, and spoke as if to the ceiling. "_Philistines_. Is there no one left who appreciates a three-act structure? The _inevitable_ reduction in circumstances before the protagonist makes his triumph return? Even something so basic as dramatic timing?" He took an easy step forward, looking right at the fool who challenged him, and smiled as only he could. "What would be the fun if I could win _every_ round? Harley gets her moment to shine … and she _pays_ for it. That's how this story goes."

The guy didn't take the hint. Which was more satisfying, honestly. He doubled down, stepping forward. "You make everyone think you're some kind of … next-level crazy genius, like you've blasted past all of society's rules into some kind of clarity only madmen see. You're just another nut. And getting trashed by Harley Quinn? Just proves you never _had_ it in the first place, Joker. You just got lucky."

Joker shook his head slowly, _tsk_ing in disappointment. "No, no, you don't understand. Harley can't make a move against me. I _own_ her. I _made_ her. She cannot exist separate from my fundamental will. Did not God make the angels, and make Lucifer rebellious in the first place? Even that great iconoclast serves his place in his maker's plan."

As usual, the reference went over their heads. Joker didn't mind, really. Religious fervor was out of fashion these days. It was still a really amusing analogy. Instead of considering it, the guy just pulled a gun, aiming it straight at Joker. "You're delusional. It's time you retired. Permanently."

He'd seen this all before. The desperate screwed-together courage, the fierce revolt, the threat. Joker knew what none of them did: threats were theater. If you _really_ meant to kill someone, it was better to just _do it_.

So he stepped closer, smiling, his eyes alight. "Go on, do it," Joker said, his voice dropping into a chant. "Do it, do it, _do it_, just pull the trigger, come on and _do it_…"

The utter lack of fear always gave them pause. Like they still expected him to abide by the conventional wisdom that a gun to one's forehead should be scary. Why should it be? When he stepped _into_ it, when he laughed with a weapon aimed right between his eyes, _he_ became the most frightening thing in the room. Not the gun, or the coward pointing it.

The guy's mouth tightened to a firm, flat line, and he pulled the trigger.

Oh, so _not_ a coward after all. Good to know.

The dry little _click_ of the firing pin hitting the cartridge, and _nothing else happening_, made all of them look dumbly at the gun. Joker, however, whooped with delight.

He snatched the gun, still laughing so hard it hurt his ribs. "That was _fun_! Hey, you wanna see a good trick?"

Most of them had guns. They were all just too stunned by this turn of events to reach for them. Joker had all the time in the world to pop the magazine, rack the slide, and catch the ejected un-fired round in midair. Then while they all watched as blank-eyed as feedlot cattle, he put the same round back in the magazine, slapped it home, and racked the slide again to cock the gun. On the same bullet that had just misfired.

Some of them probably saw this coming. Joker grabbed the guy who'd tried to shoot him by the shirt, grinned gleefully, and asked, "Do you feel lucky?"

He didn't wait for an answer, pressing the muzzle of the pistol right between the guy's eyes and pulling the trigger.

The gunshot echoed in the small foyer, making everyone's ears ring, and men standing behind the unfortunate would-be shooter got painted with blood and brains. Joker let the body fall, and glared at all of them, his smile so broad it felt like the corners of his mouth might meet behind his head. "Who's next?"

As one creature, the men stepped back. This was not merely fear, Joker knew.

It was _awe_.

…

Kala had gotten Jay back to the Manor and settled in his bed there with a minimum of fuss. Everyone was on high alert due to Joker's breakout, and it seemed like they all assumed she was bringing Jay over both to keep an eye on him, and to consolidate everyone under one roof. No one needed to know that he'd had a nightmare and a panic attack.

Just like her own panic attacks, Jay was exhausted afterward, and he'd yawned through a shower even with Kala washing his hair for him. At first he'd been reluctant to go back to bed; whatever nightmare he'd woken from had to be a terrible one. Kala could only convince him to lay down by curling herself around him. Jay fell asleep at last with his head pressed against her chest, his arms around her waist, and his legs tangled with hers.

Somewhere back in the darkest recesses of her mind, the Empress wondered how best to find Joker. Jay would eventually forgive her for stealing 'his' kill; it needed to be done.

The rest of her was chilled by those thoughts. And yet, she couldn't disagree with them. Watching Jay – brave, reckless, impossible Jay, who'd been broken and who stitched himself back together with a defiant grin – watching _him_ fall apart in a panic attack left a coal of rage burning in her chest. If she could catch Joker alone somewhere without any witnesses or cameras…

She'd fallen asleep, too. Eventually. Kala held him tight all night long.

The morning sunrise didn't wake her, but she'd been asleep when Babs called and had skipped three hours ahead, so her body clock was completely messed up. At least there was an old alarm clock on the shelf in Jay's room, that she'd been able to set to wake her. The tour was rolling out today, and it was her responsibility to get everyone on the bus in time.

The brisk ringing woke Jay too, and he swatted at the clock grumpily. "Hush, Jay, I'll get it," Kala murmured, pulling it away from his reach and silencing it.

"Kala?" he murmured, then blinked, trying to sit up. "God, K, I had the _worst_ nightmare…"

That brought back the memory of his haunted eyes when she'd first found him last night and Kala's need to find that fucking clown flared to life again. As much as she had hated the madman before, whatever Jay had seen just made the need to end Joker's miserable existence burn stronger. "I know, I came and woke you up from it," she reminded him, kissing his tousled hair. "It's all right, Jay. There haven't been any sightings yet. Everyone's on alert. Everything's fine."

Jay sighed, wrapping an arm around her waist to tug her close. "It's not fine. Joker's out. You told me. He's gotta be _real_ pissed about this with Harley. We'll be lucky if the miserable fuck doesn't burn the whole city down looking for her."

It hurt her heart to see how deeply this was effecting him and she felt so damn helpless like this. "We'll deal with him when we come to that," Kala promised, pressing a kiss to his forehead, wishing her feelings for him could lessen any of this. "And note that I said _we_."

"Duly noted," Jay told her with a half-sleepy smile. And then he looked up at her, his eyes turning serious. "K … last night."

Talking about what he'd seen might throw him further off-balance and she couldn't bear to see that. Better to remind him he wasn't alone, ever. "It's all right, Jay," she promised him. "I've got your back, always."

"I know. I just … I'm not used to anyone being there for me. Like that." His blue eyes were troubled, his mouth set in a firm line.

Kala settled for the moment, regarding him seriously. "You all right with that?"

"Fuck yeah," he said with a startled laugh. "I just… What the fuck are you doing with me, Kala? I'm only about halfway back from crazy. And Jesus fuck, you're damn near perfect."

She couldn't help laughing at that. "No, Jay, that's the furthest thing from the truth. Don't be naïve. I've got my share of broken parts, too. You led me out of the dark and taught me to get a handle on my deepest shadows. Talking you down from a nightmare is nothing compared to that."

"It's not nothing," he told her, his voice turning solemn. "How many people you think could even get close to me when I'm like that? I learned real young, the best defense is a good offense. Anyone but you or maybe Alfred would've gotten stabbed last night."

She carded her fingers through his hair, knowing the nightmare had to have been terrible to still haunt him like this. His eyes were almost bruised-looking, something lost and hurt flickering in their depths. "Well, I'm lucky you knew it was me. And I know it was just a dream, but I'd like to beat the shit outta whatever was in your nightmare."

For some reason, Jay laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "Nah, wouldn't work. It's fine. I'll be fine. Thanks to you."

"You had it, Jaybird, you would've been fine anyway. I just helped you get there faster," Kala replied.

"Good, because panic attacks fucking _suck_." He scowled as he said it, and Kala kissed his forehead. Jay leaned into it, and then sighed. "You gotta get back to the tour. I know that. I don't _like_ it, but I know it."

Kala groaned, leaning against him. "I don't want to." In that moment, she _really_ didn't. All she wanted was to be with Jay. He wouldn't appreciate her getting clingy, or overprotective, but she hated the idea of leaving his side.

Jay leaned back, looking at her seriously. "K, you gotta go. The label's hanging all this shit on you. You gotta be the manager."

"The boys know that. They'll have it together. I just have to be back in time to shower and dress and get on the bus." The protest sounded weak to Kala's own ears; she knew it was more involved than that.

He shook his head, and smacked her butt. "Yeah, right. You talk about those guys enough, I'll be surprised if they're not running fifteen minutes late. Go on, Supergirl. It's only a few more shows, then you can come crash here for Christmas."

Smiling, Kala said, "Someone clued you in?"

"Yup. You're invited. Frankly, I need you around for sanity. Dick's gonna lose his goddamn mind and try to make me wear a fuckin' Christmas sweater or some shit." Jay managed a smile at that thought.

Kala couldn't help remembering her own comment to Jason. "Are you okay with that? Not the sweater, me. I know better than the sweater."

"Yeah, Kala, I'm fine with you being here. You can toast marshmallows with your eyes and stuff. Alfred'll love that. Shit, I might even smile about the stupid fucking sweaters, if you're wearing one – and nothing else." His hand on her hip gave a suggestive squeeze.

She rolled her eyes, but the suggestive remark at least signaled a return to normal operations in Jay's mind. "If you're lucky, I might make that happen," Kala told him, grinning. "You've seen the Halloween novelty panties. I've got Christmas ones, too."

Jay laughed, and pushed at her. "Come on. Snowflakes? Candy cane stripes? Prancing reindeer across your butt? This I gotta see – but not right now."

A little something to look forward to couldn't hurt. "I have one pair that says 'Sleighin' It' across the back. And another that just says 'Naughty'."

"Terrible puns. You know the Robin in me likes that," Jay replied, a teasing glint in his eye.

Kala leaned forward, and kissed him again, whispering against his mouth, "I also have a pair with no words. Just a bunch of mistletoe – on the front."

Jay's hands tightened on her hips, and he kissed her harder before pulling back to growl, "Get the hell outta here, you tease, before I make you late." He was grinning as he said it though, and that was worth being distracted as she left. Kala kissed him one last time, and then used super-speed to get out the window. It felt _really_ weird flying by day in her pajamas, now that she wasn't breaking records in her urgency to get to Jay.

Kala flew back in her window, closing and locking it behind her, then checked her phone. Just social media alerts, no messages or calls she had to worry about, and she hurried to get showered. It would only take her seconds to pack, with her speed, but she wanted time for breakfast since she hadn't eaten at the Manor.

Eating wasn't the only thing she'd wanted to do this morning at the Manor, and Kala paused while getting dressed, feeling reckless. She told herself it was a good way to make Jay feel better, and not just a thrill to chase away her own worries from last night. Whatever the reason, Kala snapped a quick selfie in just her bra and panties – nothing too scandalous, all the important bits were covered, and she kept her face out of frame so it'd never be identifiable – and sent it to Jay. _Sorry they're not Christmas-themed_, she typed.

The phone chirped just as she tugged a t-shirt over her head, and she opened it to see a similar shot of Jay, shirtless, every muscle defined, his boxers tugged low enough for Kala's imagination to wander. He was just as sensitive to the potential for identity-revealing photos as she was, so he'd kept his face out of the shot – except for his wicked smile. _Still lifted my spirits. Among other things. Get to work, K._

With that view, who could focus on _work_? Smiling, Kala reached for her boots.

And stopped, realizing what she couldn't hear from the rooms beside her and across the hall. The showers weren't running in the boys' rooms, she didn't hear rustling fabric as clothes were put on or packed up, and she didn't hear any conversation either. For just one moment, Kala allowed herself to hope that they'd all gotten up early like responsible adults and gone down to breakfast without her.

Then she heard the snoring.

Barefoot – because she had to _wake them up_ before she could finish getting _herself_ ready – Kala stormed out of her room. Ned and Morgan were next door, and she slipped her room key into their reader, barely waiting for it to light up green before she shoved the door open. She always put the extra locks on at night, but the guys often forgot, and today was no exception. The TV was on low, there were pizza boxes sitting out on the table, and both of the room's beds had a snoring shape under the covers. Kala glared, then picked up the remote and flipped through the TV channels until she found an infomercial that looked loud.

Then she cranked the sound as high as it would go, and suddenly a man's voice _boomed_ out of the screen, trying to sell something for three payments of $19.99.

Morgan gave a high-pitched scream and tried to leap up, tangling in the blankets and falling out of the bed. Ned bellowed "_Fuck!_" and sat straight up, flailing at his own pillow. Both of them looked utterly shocked to see Kala standing in their room even as the infomercial guy shouted about the lifetime warranty.

She pushed the mute button almost hard enough to break it, and glared at both of them. "¡Àndale, motherfuckers! We have to be on the bus in an _hour_, get up, get dressed, get packed! I am not gonna get sued by our corporate overlords because no one else in this goddamn band knows how to set a fucking alarm!"

Morgan stared at her, his hair sticking up wildly. Ned, however, glared right back at her. "Good morning to you, too, _Derek_."

"_Fuck you_," Kala shot back, the words ripped out of her mouth with no consideration, no joking tone to soften them. She was angry, she'd spent the last night worrying about the goddamn Joker, and these assholes couldn't even do their jobs? And then wanted to give her some sarcastic bullshit like _that_? Fine, if Ned could dish it out, let him take it, too. "Derek was all up in our faces because he was a fuckin' Border Collie in a previous life. I just want you to get on the goddamn bus before we're all in breach of contract. It's _my ass_ on the line, Ned. I will fucking drag you down there and load you in with the luggage, so help me. You know I can do it."

"Jesus, Kala, it's _all_ of our asses on the line," Morgan cut in. "When you threw down with the label, we backed you up!"

"So fucking act like it!" she shouted, and turned the volume back on, throwing the remote at the sofa.

With that, she stormed out of the room and across the hall. Robb's room didn't have the chain on, either, and Kala walked right in, already angry enough to yell, "Rise and shine, Robb! We're gonna be late if you don't get your ass in gear _right now_!"

The yelp that answered was suspiciously high, even more so than Morgan's, but Kala didn't care. She picked up one of the sofa cushions and threw it against the form huddled under the duvet. "I said get _up_! We should've been up half an hour ago, you are _not_ making us late!"

"Kala, wait!" Robb yipped, but she'd already grabbed the duvet and snatched it off the bed in one swift jerk.

Which meant she saw a _lot_ more than she'd expected. Apparently Jennifer had stayed over last night; the blonde grabbed the sheet and yanked it up to cover herself, blushing furiously, as Robb tried to do the same. Kala rolled her eyes. "_Ugh, _dammit, both of you _move_. We've got to _go_."

"I'm so sorry," Jennifer tried to say, and Kala cut her off.

"I don't care!" Kala told her, frustrated, and saw her face fall. This wasn't her fault, she wasn't the one breaching contract, so Kala softened. A little. "No, wait, I do care, and I'm happy for you. But I don't care because we need to _fucking leave_. C'mon, Jennifer, yours are not the first breasts I've seen. Let's get rolling!"

"_Kala!_" Robb hissed at her, scandalized.

"Robb. If you make me late, I'll kick your ass the entire way to the venue. _Get dressed_. And you damn well better; set an alarm and schedule a wake-up call next time. Fuck, I _hate_ being the grownup." With that she stomped back to her room to finish dressing and put on her makeup.

They all stumbled downstairs, dragging their luggage and looking like they'd gotten dressed in a hurry, just in time to board the tour bus. Kala was waiting for them, sitting up front in what had been Derek's usual seat, and she ignored Ned's glower and Robb's wince. Morgan, though, stopped beside her. "All right, I'll say it. We're on time – but we wouldn't have been if you hadn't woken us up, Kala."

"Thank you," she said, unable to keep the frost from her voice. It had been a long, stressful night, and this morning hadn't made anything better. At least, not the part of the morning since she left Gotham.

She turned to look at them – her boys, her _band_, and her heart clenched with love and frustration. _Shit, if this is what it's like, maybe I should pass on the whole wanting-kids thing._ Still, Kala sighed and said, "Look in the cupboard."

Robb was closest, so he peeked in, and his face lit up. "You raided the breakfast bar!"

"I tipped a hundred bucks to clean it out," she said. "All the muffins and bagels and cereal you can imagine. Can't have you all starving to death."

"Okay, I can forgive you for waking me up with the gator wrench guy," Ned said, offering her a smile.

That was enough rapprochement for Kala, and as the bus swung out of the parking lot, she murmured thanks to their driver and stood up, heading back. "Good. Nice to know, Ned. Now if you'll all excuse me, I'm taking a _nap_."

She'd barely managed to roll herself into the bunk when she heard Morgan whisper, "She _never_ naps this early. Wonder if she's okay."

"Remember, she wasn't in her room last night when Jennifer first came over and we all decided to watch a movie together," Robb whispered back.

"The boyfriend must be following the tour," Ned said sourly.

In her bunk, Kala laughed to herself, covering her mouth to keep it silent. If they had _any clue_ about the night she'd actually had…

"Well, he's doing better than us," Robb said. "He got her back here in time."

…

Probabilities. Possibilities. And wild-ass guesses. Babs had gone through all of them, and ended up here, with her headset in her ear and a dozen sensitive recording devices and signal trackers set up to start the moment she press the Send button.

Gotham wasn't safe. For her, or for anyone else. Joker had been out less than twenty-four hours and had already robbed a bank, setting fire to a nearby library as a distraction. The bombs that went off inside once it was fully involved were even more distraction, and had caused severe injury to first responders. It was pure luck that no one had died.

He got away from the robbery clean, and there were deaths there, two tellers and the manager shot in the head. At least it was quick. Babs had reviewed the news, and recognized the library with a chill; she'd worked there, right after graduation.

Just coincidence, she tried to tell herself, but there was no room in their line of work for coincidence. Better to treat something as intentional, and maybe Joker was trying to point something out to Harley, remind her why it was dangerous to cross him. Maybe…

Who knew, with Joker? He'd never been predictable. He thrived on chaos.

Which left Babs trying to manage two dangerous operations at once. Gotham was about to get a lot hotter, this winter. At least Steph and Cass were in a purely observational role. Sad when a country recently embroiled in civil war felt safer than one's hometown, but then, when your home was Gotham, you learned to scoff at the notion of 'safe'.

No one was ever truly safe. Not anywhere in the world.

Which left Babs with a decision to make. She was the premier information broker in the world, supplying various heroes and vigilantes and doing contract work for Amanda Waller's Task Force X, too. She'd been the quiet, calm voice in a lot of people's ears, coaxing and guiding and always listening, always analyzing. She had plans for how to talk down nearly any of Gotham's rogues who ever crossed her path. Information was power, after all, and she knew everything that the Arkham staff or Waller's heavily-encrypted files had on all of them.

Some people were harder to pin down, more skilled at not leaving traces. Interpol had a file on the League of Shadows, as did the CIA and FBI, but the information in it was frustratingly thin. Babs had never really gotten an agent inside the organization, either. Hadn't really tried, to be honest. Bruce could outguess them, most of the time.

And she'd damn near lost Dinah to that fabled al Ghul charisma. She wouldn't risk another agent like that. Not that Dinah crossing paths with them had been Babs' idea – she'd tried to warn her away.

This was potentially more dangerous than many of her prior exploits. But Babs didn't waste resources … and she needed someone to cover her girls. The worst case scenario, if all her theories were wrong, would put them in _more_ danger, though. The question was, how much greater was the potential reward than the potential risk, and if it _did_ turn sour, how would she keep the girls safe?

Babs felt a cold smile curve her mouth. _By any means necessary_, of course, no matter how underhanded. Bruce was her ace in the hole, in this one, even if he'd taken her aside and told her quietly, "Don't make that call."

Which was ironic, in its way, because him realizing that she was considering doing this and telling her _not_ to had pushed her to consider it seriously. There were many ways in which she tried to emulate Bruce, and a few key ones in which she tried to do the opposite of what he would. When it came to trusting people and sharing information, Babs went the latter route.

So she dialed, and waited, headset in her ear. The phone rang six times, then cut off with a beep for voicemail, not even a message. Babs ended the call and redialed immediately. This time, it was answered, and in the beat of silence before either of them spoke, Babs closed her eyes and brought all of her intellect to bear on one goal: keeping Steph and Cass safe.

A faint scoffing noise was the first sound she heard. "When I learn who has been giving out this number, I'm going to have a serious and possibly fatal conversation with that person."

Babs kept her voice neutral. She left the digital voice scrambler off, for this one. If the call was intercepted, she was already in massive trouble. "Hello, Talia. This is Oracle."

"Oracle? How fascinating. Well then, to what circumstance do I owe this call?" She sounded guarded, careful, probing ahead for ulterior motives.

She sounded exactly like Babs felt. Now, how to proceed? Mind racing, Babs decided to try something that might be very novel for Talia. She'd responded to novelty before with Selina, playing along with the rules of this 'prank war' they had going on. So Babs simply told her the truth. "I have reason to believe you're in Libya. We might be able to help each other, in that regard."

"Are you volunteering to assist the League of Shadows? I knew you'd provided support to the tastelessly-named Suicide Squad, but this is unprecedented." Still, Talia sounded curious. She wasn't using a digitizer, either, they were both hearing one another's voices only altered by the relative quality of cell networks.

"I have reasons for wanting the Libya situation contained without any collateral damage. Whatever material support I can offer, short of crossing ethical lines, I'll give you." Babs was careful about phrasing that. There were some thing she simply couldn't do. And pulling Dinah out of Gotham just when things with Joker were heating up was better than crossing any of those lines.

"You have _assets_ in Libya," Talia said, and Babs didn't make a sound, didn't even take a sharp breath, that might hint to her that her guess was correct. "I have significantly more experience and personnel in this region. Pull your people out, Oracle. They don't need to be here. And you have trouble enough at home."

So she knew about Joker. And she sounded awfully certain about personnel. Steph thought she might've seen Talia… Time to gamble. "I wouldn't have guessed you'd let yourself be spotted as easily as you were. Betrayed by a sweet tooth? My operative made you at the pastry shop."

"Your _operatives_ are a pair of teenage girls, and I made them a month ago," Talia retorted. "The only reason I hadn't called to tell you to pull them both out is because you wouldn't listen."

There was something for Babs to catch onto, and she grabbed it with both hands. "You told Batman to stay out of the Guyot-Perrin deal, and he doubled down. He was wrong, wasn't he? Everything we've found shows they're involved in legitimate research. Luthor tried to undermine them, and you made sure they had the samples they needed. Batman should've just trusted you." It was certainly an overly simplified reading of the situation, but she needed Talia to believe that Babs was considering trusting her. How she reacted to that trust would be telling.

Soft laughter was her only answer, at first. "You are all so very tiresome. Was it really so hard to believe that I might actually care about developing clean energy solutions? Has that not been a concern of ours for longer than you or the Detective even knew we existed?"

"We're a very suspicious group of people," Babs said, sounding conciliatory. One thing she felt certain of, dealing with so many dangerous people, was that appeals to the ego were almost universally attractive. Another was that Talia _was_ just that arrogant.

"That you are," Talia said. "What exactly are you asking me to do, Oracle?"

Now was the moment she had to choose. Try to play this like every other serial killer she'd ever manipulated into doing good? Or go in an unexpected direction, and see what came of it? Barbara Gordon knew that she wasn't good at trusting people – she'd known Dinah over a year before she ever met her face to face, or gave her a name.

Cass and Steph were at risk. She couldn't take chances with them; she wasn't Bruce. So Babs took a deep breath, and said, "Look after my girls. Make sure they're safe."

Absolute silence on the line, for a full ten seconds. Long enough that Babs checked her instruments to make sure the connection hadn't gone dead. Finally, Talia said, "I beg your pardon?"

"You said it. They're teenage girls, and you've never harmed a child or a noncombatant." That was a big risk, and Babs knew it. Steph and Cass were both vigilantes with more training than most military personnel, but if she could get Talia to think of them as _kids_, she might be careful of them.

"I don't fight children," Talia said flatly. "_Batgirl_ is no mere child, by anyone's definition."

"She's not even old enough to drink," Babs replied. "No matter what her abilities are, I don't want her in the middle of this. But I can't make Batgirl leave when Shiva's involved, and Spoiler won't leave her side. I can't send anyone to look after them – I don't have the personnel, and they would resent it, and I don't have anyone capable of forcing Batgirl to do _anything_ she doesn't want to do. Right now they're just observing the situation, but if it all spills over, I've got _no one_ who can keep an eye on them."

Another long, thoughtful pause. "So you're asking _me_ to look after your strays?"

Babs' intuition told her now was the time to switch it back, to stop arguing, so she simply said, "Yes."

The sensitive microphone picked up a sound, a faint _thunk_ like some piece of furniture being kicked. "You really are smarter than he is, aren't you? And more ruthless."

"That's still up for debate," Babs said, all but holding her breath.

"Barbara, I can't save them either," Talia said, a new edge to her voice. "I can't challenge Shiva directly, not when she has far too many of my people following her. I've got to find the center of this rot, see what Shiva knows, and turn it all back on her – preferably _without_ trusting the loyalty of the wrong person and getting a literal knife in my back for the trouble. There is _one man_ in all of North Africa I can reasonably assume still works for _me_, and he's busy at the moment. I have neither the time nor the resources to shepherd your operatives out of harm's way. The best I could do is tranq them both and have them shipped home before the drugs wear off, but we both know that wouldn't hold Cassandra for long."

And wasn't it interesting that she'd immediately assumed what Babs _really_ wanted, and hadn't quite dared to ask? "I know that, Talia. There's no stopping Batgirl when she's determined."

"That's been true of everyone who wore that title," Talia replied. "Have you given any thought to the fact that if you _did_ recall her, she might actually listen? Her concern here is her biological mother, who has never truly been a mother to her. Who do you think meets that description, Barbara?"

"She feels like she _has_ to face Shiva," Babs said. "And I might love her like my daughter – they're _both_ my girls – but that doesn't mean she'll listen. I've gone as far as I dare to, without breaking her trust in me."

Talia clicked her tongue irritably. "I can't make you any promises. Tell them to leave this in my hands; it's my fight, not theirs. And I was trained for this."

Babs rubbed her temples. What did it say about the current situation that the tranq gun and shipping crate was looking like a _good_ solution right about now? "Batgirl won't leave now. If I send Batman…"

She laughed at that. "_Send_ him? You mean you've successfully gotten him to do something he didn't think was his own idea? Oh, do tell me how you managed _that_."

Her bitter smile was probably in her voice when Babs answered, "Not even I'm that good. But if Batgirl was in imminent danger…"

"Point. Still, with Joker running loose in his city? And Jason so recently returned to him? He _might_ come here to protect Cassandra, but I doubt that. He knows she would resent it. Not to mention, Father would involve himself if the Detective were here. I'd rather not risk that."

Babs sighed. "Then I suppose I'd better help you. The sooner you can deal with Shiva, the sooner my agents can be convinced to come home. Do you know her objective?"

"You're welcome to try, but I understand Shiva conducts much of her business face-to-face and by word of mouth. There simply aren't many electronic traces to follow. As for her goal … she's either making a serious bid for control of the League of Shadows, or there's something specific here that she wants. At this point, I'm hoping it's the former," Talia said.

"What's the thing you're hoping she's _not_ after?" Babs asked.

Talia answered with another question. "Where are your agents staying, Barbara?"

She couldn't help bristling at the question, but forced herself to subdue that instinctive reaction. She saw the point Talia was making. "All right, trust only goes so far."

"I can't promise to protect them for you, Barbara," Talia reminded her. "It's in their best interest, and yours, to convince them to leave this country now."

"I'll try," Babs said, and she was going to do that anyway, even knowing it was likely futile. "Try not to get yourself hurt, either."

Again that long, considering pause. "You do the same. I rather think Libya is safer than Gotham, just now."

"Can I reach you at this number if I find anything useful?" Babs asked.

"I'll keep it active," Talia said. "Leave a voicemail if I can't answer." And with that, she broke the connection.

Babs sat back, pulling the headset off and dropping it aside. She raked a hand through her hair, unsurprised to find it damp with sweat. Stress did that.

There was no time to analyze the nuances of that conversation. At least Talia knew that the Bats knew she was in the region. If she crossed paths with the girls, she might try to protect them. And that was better oversight than anything else Babs could provide just now.

Leaving that conflict simmering, Babs turned back to the one threatening to boil over and ignite in Gotham. Helena and Dinah were both on the street tonight, undercover, trying to unravel the complex web of favors and grudges, alliances and enmities, that wove Gotham's criminal underbelly together. Trying to find Joker, or Harley, before he found her and murdered her in some spectacular fashion.


	20. Won't Look Down, Won't Open My Eyes

Cassandra Cain checked her heavily-encrypted email, and saw a message from Barbara Gordon. She paused before clicking on it, looking over at Stephanie, who was still asleep. Just looking at Steph made her smile.

Looking at Babs' screen name in the email, though, made her sigh. They had struggled occasionally, but Cass knew that Babs loved her deeply and unconditionally. Babs had worked with her endlessly, getting her speech therapy, figuring out alternate forms of communication. She had never given up, even when Cass turned sullen out of frustration. In passing on the Batgirl mantle, she'd been stern, laying down strict rules, but it always came from a place of caring about Cass and wanting her to be safe.

Cass saw her in a slightly different light from most people, she thought. Most were intimidated by Babs' intelligence and determination. True, Cass had relied on both traits as they figured out how to work together. But for her, it had been Babs' kindness that stood out.

She knew that other people thought of Babs as brusque, even abrasive. And Cass had seen that side of her, especially when they frustrated each other. The difference was, Babs always reached out again. No matter how many times they misunderstood one another, no matter how many times they faltered or failed, Babs was always there for her.

Which made her reservations about _this_ mission particularly painful. Cass was hunting her mother, but Babs was the only person in Cass' life who actually deserved to be called a mother figure. Steph was right, Shiva had merely passed on her genes and a brief stay in her womb. Sandra Wu-San wasn't even a bad mother, just an entirely absent one.

And that absence _hurt_. Steph had some issues with her late mother; Tim Drake had problems with his own, when his parents had been alive. They'd both loved their moms, though. From what Cass understood, Dick and Bruce had had very close, loving relationships with their mothers – and had lost them brutally young. All around her, so much love and loss and grief, so much meaning wrapped around the simple word _mother_, an entire _holiday_ devoted to the celebration of women who chose to have children. As if it were some mystical act that changed them forever, like it marked their souls.

Cass had no real frame of reference for that. David Cain had been her only parent, all her life, and she'd adored him with a child's innocence until the day he loosed her like a weapon and she saw the life run out of a man's eyes. Her innocence died that day, and her love for her father withered.

Maybe her pursuit of Shiva was in some way an attempt to find that kind of connection again. Or at least discover why it seemed so absent from her life. Cass preferred to think that she was simply the person most qualified to stop Shiva from whatever she was trying to do in taking over part of the League of Shadows, but even she knew that wasn't the whole reason.

She sighed, and clicked on the email, glancing at Steph again. It was heavily encrypted, and only the program on this computer could read it, using a key sequence Babs had coded onto this netbook. Cass let it run, and then leaned forward, reading carefully.

_I confirmed that Talia al Ghul is in Libya. She claims to have sighted both of you._

Cass made a rude noise through her nose. She hadn't seen Talia, and doubted that the Demon's Daughter had spotted her without being seen herself. It was purely Steph's luck that they'd crossed paths – and Steph was eerily lucky, at times.

Unless Talia was looking for them, hanging around in places where she might set eyes on two strangers. That assumed that she had some illicit means of getting news about the Bats, and was just as good at deduction as they were; neither assumption was unreasonable. The League of Shadows trained its highest echelon very well, and they had vast resources at their disposal. It was possible that Talia might know Steph and Cass had left South Sudan at around the same time as Doc Leslie, and the reasonable assumption would've been that they'd headed back to Gotham together. When the two younger women never appeared there, she'd have to wonder where they were. Libya was where the League of Shadows' troubles originated; it was where any competent detective tracking Shiva would end up.

Babs knew all that, too. She wouldn't have risked contacting Talia except to confirm, preferably through call tracing, that Talia was in fact in the area. Now that she knew, it was time to see what course of action she recommended.

_I want you both to leave Libya and return to Gotham City._

Cass sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose until her eyes watered. Of course. She _knew_ Babs was recalling them because she feared for both of them; an internal war of the League of Shadows was a very dangerous place to be for anyone. Babs felt it was _more_ dangerous because of Shiva's involvement, and Cass' relationship to her.

Of course, Cass disagreed. Shiva was a deadly opponent, true, but few people approached Cass' level of training. As long as she didn't get caught in a shooting gallery, she trusted herself to deal with any of the League of Shadows' regular members.

The problem, as she saw it, was Steph. Cass _knew_ that Steph was worried about her, and short of injuring her or otherwise physically restraining her, Cass couldn't make her leave. Steph had come a very long way, but that bad shoulder was always going to be a liability, and it was just the worst of her injuries. She could maybe handle the League's people with Cass at her side, but _Shiva_?

Cass shivered, remembering the last time she'd crossed paths with her mother. She hadn't encountered anyone whose technique was so superbly refined, so seemingly beyond her own capabilities, since childhood. For a brief moment, Cass' heart had stopped thanks to an extraordinary strike by Shiva, and she'd known how dying felt.

She'd been revived, but the moment stuck in her mind like an ink-stain, spreading out to mark other memories. For the first time, Cass knew trepidation, facing a foe.

It didn't matter. _Someone_ had to stop Shiva, and whatever she was trying to do, it would be no safer in the hands of Talia al Ghul. Cass had never met the Demon's Daughter, but what she'd heard didn't leave her inclined to trust in Talia's good intentions.

No, she couldn't leave. Not now.

The email required an answer, though. Cass didn't want to refuse Babs. Unless…

Cass knew where the encryption key was saved, and the file was editable. She could just go in, change a single keystroke, and they would be out of contact. Steph never had to know. Cass could pretend, even to Babs, that it had been a virus or just some kind of programming glitch.

Babs would suspect, though. And cutting off communication was the coward's way out. Cass' soul rebelled at the idea.

_I want_ was not an order, though. It was an expression of what Babs desired to happen, not an infallible command. So perhaps there was a way to answer it without agreeing to return, some way to explain to Babs why they _had _to stay.

Even better, perhaps there was a way to get Babs to convince _Steph_ to leave. Cass would feel much safer if she were only risking her own life.

Cass shut down the computer without replying, and slid back under the covers, snuggling up to Steph. She'd think on it, and decide how to answer later on.

If all else failed, she could flatly refuse. Babs wasn't likely to send someone after them, not with Joker free of the hospital. She had her hands full there. Perhaps she would have to simply trust in Cass' judgment.

The idea that someone older and wiser might put that trust in her was a little overwhelming. As she did whenever the world was too confusing, Cass tucked her face against Steph's shoulder and breathed deep, letting her mind race while her body relaxed. Even asleep, every inch of Steph spoke to her, the same way she always had, offering respect and trust and fondness. Stephanie Brown might as well have been a billboard of positive feedback, and if Cass were honest, she did need that.

With a sleepy murmur, Steph threw an arm around her shoulders and drew her close. Cass let her breath out in a sigh.

She'd have to keep her from seeing that email, when Steph woke up. At least until Cass figured out what to do about it.

…

Kala thought it was a damn good practice. Despite the grueling schedule, despite being here at the label's main studio, some of the playfulness was back in the band. They played their own stuff first, then starting doing covers and just jamming. Ned went off on one of his crazy percussion solos, throwing out polyrhythms in odd meters at blazing fast speed. Robb and Morgan picked up on it, playing support for a little while, then ran off into their riffs and changes. Kala just rocked to the beat for a while, letting them play, using her voice as an instrument without actually needing lyrics.

As always, they inspired her, and when Ned slipped into a groove that sounded familiar, Kala grinned. Time for her to show her own range. "Gimme Chandelier," Kala said, and the boys grinned right back, gliding into the minor key easily.

The Sia song didn't _seem_ difficult to a casual listener, but the fifth change followed by the full octave tested any singer's ability. And keeping the pitch and tone correct at that sheer power was a challenge even for Kala, with super-stamina adding to her lung power.

It was also simply _fun_, and for a while now the tour hadn't been. They rocked through a few more songs, skipping back and forth between genres, Kala belting out Black Velvet like she was trying to fry the microphone, then switching to the torchy vocals and long-held notes of Mordred's Lullaby. They ended up with a song that they all sang together, which not even Kala could do perfectly, but then, very few people could match Freddie Mercury. And Bohemian Rhapsody was always meant to be a group song.

She ended the set tired but content, ready to go onstage tomorrow and rock out. Admittedly, she was looking forward to the Christmas break, partly because it meant time away from this crazy schedule, and partly because she was going to finally be able to see _Jay _for longer than a fractured night. As if there wasn't enough worry over the Joker since the breakout, she just simply missed him. She missed him with an ache that came from deep in her bones, lonely in ways she didn't want to deeply consider, and the whole notion of spending the _entire week_ after Christmas with him filled her with delightful anticipation.

It was so good, she walked out of the studio grinning and joking with the boys. For the first time in a long time, she remembered why she'd wanted this so much she'd skipped college to sing.

And then she saw Jenna at the end of the corridor, giving her a bright smile that didn't touch her eyes. "Kala, do you have a minute?" she asked with false cheer.

Kala's first, instinctive reaction was simply to bolt. Just run, out the door and down the street, until she found someplace no one could see her and she could leap for the sky. The world always made more sense when viewed from a few miles up. Whatever this was, it would sour her good mood as surely as lemon juice would curdle milk.

Responsibility held her, even though she chafed at it. "Sure, Jenna," she said lightly, with a smile as fake as her agent's, and walked over to her.

Jenna led her to a conference room, and Kala's stomach dropped. There were too damn many suits in the room, never a good sign. She cut her eyes at Jenna; despite the fact that they all called her their agent, her proper title was talent manager. Jenna had been with them from the start, helping to craft their image, but Kala wasn't fooled. Everyone in the recording industry looked out for themselves, and Jenna's contract had just been renewed for another three years. She technically represented the band's interests, but she had to position them for success – and her connections in the industry were on the line if they bombed.

Kala should've known this was coming. She'd fired Derek and taken over as her own tour manager, an unprecedented move on a tour this size. Of course there would be repercussions. She glanced over the four men sitting at the table, recognizing the business manager who represented her band, the business manager who represented the label, the entertainment lawyer who'd walked her through signing her original contract, and one of the producer's assistants. All of them were looking at her with stern expressions that reminded her absurdly of Uncle Bruce when he'd scolded her and Jay for their misadventure against Black Mask's men.

She bit her tongue to keep from laughing. None of them had _any_ idea who they were dealing with. They were here to chide an artist for being difficult; she was the Blur, she was Superman's daughter, she could literally fly away from here at a speed difficult for the human mind to comprehend. Hell, just hovering in place would substantially change the discussion they were about to have. Gotham's rogues tended to make her _angry_, since she'd gotten properly trained, and these men didn't stand a chance of intimidating her.

So Kala smiled sweetly. "Hello, gentlemen. Come to offer me Derek's percentage, since I'm doing his job?"

"Have a seat," her business manager, Brian Pelham, said. Not unkindly, and Kala did slowly sit down, with Jenna taking the chair to her right. She met each man's gaze levelly, wanting them to see how unimpressed she was.

The label's business manager, Shawn Mullins, leaned forward. "We're concerned about your band's future, so we wanted to have a little meeting to discuss it."

"A little meeting with _me_, since I'm acting tour manager. And also the initials painted on all the merch," Kala said dryly. "For the record, I think not consulting the boys is shady."

The producer's assistant, Aaron Douglas, gave a dismissive wave to that. "Backup musicians come and go. You're not the Beatles; an act like yours is all about the frontman. Or frontwoman, as the case may be."

Kala narrowed her eyes at him. "Try and get up there to do Ned's job, or Robb's, or Morgan's. They're not replaceable cogs in a standardized machine. This is _art_, gentlemen, and our sound comes from _all _of us."

The lawyer, Frank Rogers, kept quiet. Jenna did clear her throat. "KLK is an ensemble, Aaron."

"And they're missing half of their vocals," Aaron replied. "Look, Kala, we appreciate that you've taken responsibility for managing things – but _you_ were the one who fired Derek."

She set her elbows on the table and lifted her chin, glaring. "Derek fired _himself_. He had no right to browbeat Robb, or raise his voice at any of us, or accuse me of being on drugs, or talk to us like children, or trash-talk Marlene. We put up with all of it, and I kept Jenna appraised, but when he put hands on me, that was _it_. He was going out the door or in the hospital from that point. I and everyone else _specifically_ warned Derek that I've been through some things, and I do not take kindly to being manhandled. He did it anyway. You're lucky I didn't call the police and report assault."

"That would've been fairly difficult to prove, after you apparently threw him to the ground," Shawn said.

Kala let herself laugh, and none of them would ever recognize the Blur's battle-ready gleam in her eyes. "Oh yeah? You're not stupid, gentlemen. When a woman – a delicate-looking, conventionally-attractive woman, who's sober and speaking in professional tones – tells the police a man ten years older than her grabbed her and shoved her around, they're going to take that more seriously than her retaliating. At least, as long as there aren't any bruises on her assailant. My aunt's a cop, my parents are reporters, I know how the justice system works. As far as I'm concerned, Derek and I settled it the old-fashioned way. I didn't want him arrested, I just wanted him to _stop_."

"We understand there were personality conflicts with Derek," Brian said, glancing from Kala to the other three men. "We have that under control, and we're working on finding a manager to take over the tour. Unfortunately, after the suitcase incident in Denver, we've got to consider that carefully."

Kala gritted her teeth at that. "I don't think the suitcase is what your problem is."

Aaron put his elbows on the table, clasped his hands in front of him, and looked at her sternly. "The problem is, we've lost one lead singer and a manager from this tour in a matter of months. And the common denominator is you."

_Deep breaths,_ Kala told herself. If she lost her temper and flipped this table over and told them all _exactly_ what she thought of them, she'd only convince them that she was unbalanced and didn't have to be taken seriously. She could afford to flush it all down the drain, if it came to that – but the boys couldn't. She had to look out for Robb, Ned, and Morgan.

"Fine then. Fire away. What are your concerns?" Kala's voice sounded tight to her own ears, but not hysteric. It should have been good enough.

"Mr. Vélez is in breach of contract right now," the lawyer said, speaking smoothly and with unflappable calm. "We have chosen not to pursue that, in hopes that we can bring him back to the tour – and to the studio next spring. Our primary concern is avoiding another incident like Denver. We do not need the property damage, or the very public departure of a leading member of the band."

"Why not just call him a valuable product?" Kala said, emulating his silky tones. "We all know you're only looking at the bottom line." The label was owed a measure of blame for the situation. The marketing team had pushed Kala and Sebast, not _quite_ as an official couple, but certainly as a pair. They had teased the possibility of something more than friends, baiting the 'shippers in the audience, and had encouraged the flirtatious personas they both showed on stage. No one had ever issued a statement about them _not_ being in a relationship, or about Sebast being gay. Hell, no one on the PR team had never even bothered to deny that the video of Kala kissing her mysterious man in Denver wasn't her cheating on Sebast. They'd let the relationship drama bring more hits to the fan forums, and sell more concert tickets. They only cared now because Sebast hadn't come back immediately, and the fans who came to see _him_ might stop buying.

Aaron spoke next. "We need your assurance that you can maintain a civil working relationship with Sebast. Whatever your personal challenges are, you're both under contract for another album and another tour. We need at least that much professionalism from both of you to protect our investment."

Clenching her jaw again, Kala took a deep breath and let it out before she replied. "You don't have to worry about professionalism from me. The incident in Denver was unprecedented. In my entire career, I've never done anything like that before – nor do I have any intention of doing so again."

Jenna added, "You've got Marlene Drucker's notes, and you know in the last two years there hasn't been a single complaint from any hotel or venue. KLK runs a tight ship. These kids even clean up their hotel rooms before they check out."

"Well, they ran a tight ship with Drucker, but _she_ can make the Glades Park Five look good," Shawn said.

Kala raised her eyebrow. "Marlene taught us well, but she spoiled us in a way. We're used to being treated like adults, like real human beings, not like _commodities_. Or sideshow performers. Find me a manager who can do their job without climbing down our throats, and we'll be fine."

Brian said, "The manager isn't the real problem. Derek … was a poor fit, for this band, at this particular time. I think what's causing the most worry is the issue with Sebast."

"The issue with Sebast, and Kala's other obligation of late, which seems to be taking precedence over her career," Aaron put in.

"Mr. Douglas's habit of referring to me in the third person in my presence is not exactly conducive to finding a solution," Kala said, looking directly at Brian. Only once she'd made her point did she lock gazes with the producer's assistant. "That said, _Aaron_, my 'other obligation' has not caused me to miss a single rehearsal or venue. You really ought to be grateful to my other obligation; he's been the main reason why I was able to keep Derek's insinuations from bothering me for this long."

"This man _has_ nearly made you late on several occasions. And you haven't been in your room when you were expected to be," Shawn said.

"So, you're my parents now?" Kala challenged, jutting her chin out. "Gentlemen, I am twenty-four years old. I can sleep in whatever bed I want to sleep in – with _whoever_ I want. You do not get to tell me to go to my room like I'm a misbehaving child. My own father was never this overbearing."

"There is an issue of negative publicity," Brian said, with a sheepish expression.

"Negative publicity? There's one video, ninety seconds, and a handful of photos. His face is completely obscured and you can _barely_ tell that's me," Kala shot back. "The only reason they knew it was me at all was because they were fans, and they happened to be at the club where I hopped onstage – for _one set_ with a cover band. I wasn't trying to usurp the booking agent's take, gentlemen. I've never heard my own music covered before, and the lead singer invited me onstage. How could I refuse?"

"The unscheduled appearance was irregular, but it was not the problem," Frank told her. "Overall, it was handled in such a way that there was no negative impact."

And Kala bit back an ironic laugh, that the _lawyer_ was the reassuring one in the room at the moment.

…

Jay managed to start feeling human again by mid-afternoon. He wanted something spicy, and stopped by a Thai place that was near the Clock Tower, so on a whim he got an extra order and called Babs. "Have you eaten yet?" he asked.

To his surprise, she had to think about the answer. "I had breakfast."

He chuckled. "Yeah, I'm coming by. Where's Dinah? Doesn't she usually remind you to pull your head out of the database?"

"When you see what I'm researching, you'll know why I've been busy," Babs said ominously. Then added, "Thank you, Jay. Bringing me lunch is a lot nicer than bringing me a bunch of busted cameras."

"Look, if you're complaining that I don't come see you enough, I'll start dropping in every day and pestering you," he teased back.

"I wouldn't mind," Babs laughed, and hung up.

It was only a short trip, and he didn't really think about how different this was from eight months ago until he was on the elevator headed up. Spring of this year, he'd slipped back into Gotham, bristling and ready to fight anyone in his family who tried to bring him back to heel. He'd expected confrontation, some kind of ultimatum from Bruce, the whole rest of them ranged against him.

Instead, he'd gotten cookies and a comm unit, and Babs offering to work with him, not against him. And a month later, he'd run into a half-trained Super with a snarky mouth and the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen.

All of that was better than thinking about his panic attack last night, or wondering how well Babs was coping. If she was forgetting to eat, it couldn't be that great.

He was laughing to himself, focusing relentlessly on the lighter side, as he walked into the main room, and Babs pushed herself back from the monitor, arching an auburn brow at him. "What's so funny?"

"Just thinking back on how damn slick you were," he said, laying out both entrees to let her choose. "You knew K was on her way when you sent the comm, didn't you?"

"Of course. And I wanted to know where _you_ were so she didn't drop-kick you into orbit some night," Babs replied, smirking.

"Yeah, little did you know," he chuckled.

She picked the beef broccoli, and Jay took the red curry. They both unpacked sauces and chopsticks, and Jay dragged a chair over. Once they were settled in, Babs gave him a serious look. "I think it all worked out for the best. Even the unintended consequences."

"Just delete that audio file, and I'll agree," he teased.

"No, I'm saving that for blackmail purposes," she told him.

Jay just shrugged; he had no shame about it, anyway. "So what're you working on?"

"Trying to pinpoint League of Shadows operatives in southern Libya," Babs sighed. "Also trying to anticipate Joker's next move." She sounded as blasé as he did, as if it was just another day in Gotham. Not trying to track down the man who'd shot her at close range.

"That fucker's never predictable. Just keep security set at red-orange and your gun loaded," Jay advised. He had a brief mental image of literally sweeping his nightmare and everything else under the rug, but at this point, the rug wouldn't even be touching the ground anymore. There was too much trying to hide under it. He supposed that was part of why he'd had that nightmare; stuff leaked out around the edges.

He'd found a contractor to fix his window, _today_, at an exorbitant price. After lunch he'd have to head over to the building to disarm security and hide anything incriminating. Jay didn't mention it, though, the same way he didn't ask Babs how she was sleeping. They both knew that after this with Harley, Joker was going to escalate. And either one of them could be his next target. They both had hot metahuman chicks looking out for them, though, and Jay was determined not to dwell on it. Talking would only make it more real.

Instead, he picked up on the other thing that was worrying Babs. "As for the League, what's really going on in Libya? You've been cagey about that for a while."

"Shiva's out there trying to do something nefarious," Babs replied. "We don't know if she's trying to split the League, or take it completely from Ra's, or if there's some specific objective in that particular area that she wants. Based on my reports from Steph and Cass, I _think_ it's the latter. But I don't know what it could be."

Jay scrubbed a hand over his face, thinking. "Shit, I was in Morocco for a while, but we never did Libya. I don't know what assets they have there."

"Neither do I," Babs admitted. "There's a significant presence, and Talia admitted to being there."

"Wait, you _talked_ to her?" Jay said, his eyebrows going up. He remembered Thanksgiving then, Selina being rather cutting with her gibes, and Babs' sudden interest in the prank war.

"Yes. The number Selina got for her is still active – it's the same number Talia used to call you about the kryptonite she sold to Black Mask. I could only partially trace it, there are too many reroutes, but we have a line of communication." Babs looked at him like she expected him to challenge her somehow.

Jay was too busy being astounded. "Okay, okay. _Why_ do you want a line of communication? Oh fuck, tell me you're not trying to recruit _Talia_. You're gonna need a lot more than cookies for that one, Babs."

"Cass and Steph are in Libya," Babs told him. "And Cass thought they'd seen Talia, too. I needed to confirm her presence – and when I did, she already knew they were there. My girls are at ground zero in what might be an intra-League war. Something like that, in a place that's already recovering from a civil war, could quickly spill out into open conflict."

"Fuck," Jay muttered. "Call the girls home. Let Talia deal with Shiva. That's her fuckin' job, anyway, keeping the nutcases in line for Daddy."

And Babs looked at him with a soft, self-deprecating laugh. "I already did, Jay. They haven't answered me. I'm afraid Cass has gone offline deliberately. This _is_ her mother."

"Well, double fuck, then," Jay said, a chill running down his spine. "Maybe they're just busy, or laying low."

"That's what I'm hoping. They've been out of communication before – the League presence is very heavy, and they're staying far under the radar. I just can't help worrying about them." Babs took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

Jay saw the shadows beneath her eyes, and reached out to touch her arm gently. "Hey. If push comes to shove … fuck, send me and Kala over there. I can find 'em, Kala can drag them both home. Not even Cass is gonna be able to argue too much with a Kryptonian."

Babs shook her head slowly. "I don't want to drop Kala in the middle of a potential war zone. If Cass is deliberately ignoring my recall, she _would_ fight, and she's one of the few people who would probably merit an appearance of the Empress. I'm not turning _that_ loose on foreign soil, not when one of our enemies who has large quantities of kryptonite is active in the area. Hell, Jay, for all I know, Libya is where Ra's stashed most of it, and _that's_ what Shiva's after."

"Shit, why would Shiva want kryptonite?" Jay asked, ignoring the way his skin prickled and his belly tightened. Even thinking about the stuff made him nauseous, now.

Fuck, maybe he'd picked the wrong distraction. Joker's bullshit was looking like the safer topic, right about now.

Babs shrugged. "I don't know, but I can't discount the possibility. Shiva's not someone I can completely predict, either. And for what it's worth, I wouldn't send _you_ out there, anyway. I have serious qualms about putting you in Talia's path."

One of Jay's more esoteric studies had been a couple months with a top poker player, learning how to control his facial expression and body language so as not to reveal his intentions. He hadn't perfected that – Kala could still read him perfectly – but Jay drew on every second of coaching to try and appear nonchalant now. "What, you think she'll Manchurian-Candidate me or something?"

"No, I think she was your handler for a long time, and if she asked for your help in a sufficiently righteous cause, you'd give it," Babs replied. Which, thankfully, didn't seem like she had any clue just how much Talia had _handled_ Jay. He managed not to let his relief show, either, as she continued, "I don't want you or Kala mixed up with League of Shadows business. The worst part about this is, Cass _is_ the perfect agent for this surveillance. She knows the League better than you do, she's the most advanced martial artist of any of us, and she has plenty of experience maintaining a cover."

"But you're afraid for her because you know she's not objective when it's her mother," Jay supplied. "Fuck, Babs, tell her to call me. I can remind her how trying to reconnect with _my_ bio mom went down. Maybe it'll convince her to listen."

"I can try that. But I don't know if she'll change her mind. That's the worst of it, she _knows_ she's my only option there. And Steph's there, too. Steph won't leave her side, and she's vulnerable." Babs pinched the bridge of her nose again. "I can't even tell them they'd be safer here, with Joker running loose. He's going to ramp up again, I can feel it. There's already chatter among the crime families that Joker's lost his edge, that Harley beating him up means he should be taken down. We're about to have a war _here_, Jay."

"Not if I find the fucker first," he said darkly. And here they were, talking about the thing they didn't talk about, the scars they shared. He didn't have to ask to know that Babs understood how it felt, looking at five AM on the clock face and waiting for the light, checking every corner of the room and arguing with herself that she wasn't a child, she didn't need to look under the bed.

Babs looked at him for a long moment, not speaking. Not needing to. Jay also knew she kept a gun in her nightstand, and she had the training to use it. If Joker tried to use her to make a statement, he'd die for that mistake. And Jay would throw a party.

Then again, if Joker tried to remind everyone what a badass he was by picking fights with the guy he kept calling 'Dead Hood', _Jay_ would kill his ass, and be done with it. Let Bruce pitch a temper tantrum. Self-defense was a thing.

Babs finally sighed, and switched back, not wanting to open that particular Pandora's box either. "I asked Talia to look out for the girls. It's a gamble, but it's the best I could do. Even if Cass decides not to listen to me, at least _one_ person has some motivation to protect them."

"Don't trust Talia," Jay said, more harshly than he intended. And when Babs raised an eyebrow at him for explanation, he sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "Look, Babs … yeah, I thought I knew her pretty well. I've got a lot of doubt about that now. But one of the things I'm pretty sure about is her loyalties are _seriously_ fucking conflicted. If it comes down to Bruce or Ra's, you might as well flip a coin, because not even _she_ knows which way she'll jump. Daddy Demon's got her damn near brainwashed. Plus if she's dealing with _Shiva_, come on. You know Shiva's one of like, five people on the planet who could thoroughly kick her ass. Talia's not gonna be at the top of her game, knowing she's dealing with a rebellion led by Shiva."

"She's the only leverage I have," Babs said bleakly. "At least she knows that we know she's over there. If anything happens to Cass or Steph, Bruce will be looking at her. That has to still mean something."

"Yeah, it means something, but Bruce can't cut ties with her, either. Even when Selina's over at the Manor for breakfast once or twice a week, Bruce still fell in bed with Talia when she was in Gotham last. She's not used to thinking _anyone_ could ever really cut her off. Maybe she thinks he could forgive her for this – not like she'd be the one who hurt them. This much I'll give her, if Steph's compromised and she's like, what, seventeen? That's a noncombatant, to Talia. She won't let her get hurt if she can help it."

"It's the _if she can help it_ part that worries me," Babs sighed. "All of this is just a nightmare, Jay."

That phrasing sent a shiver down his spine, and Babs saw it, looking at him shrewdly. He shrugged, and decided fuck it. Might as well flip that rug back and take some of the trash out. At least Babs wouldn't judge him. "Yeah, well, I've been having nightmares of my own. Side effect of the Clown running free. I'm never not gonna hear that laugh."

"Me, neither," Babs told him gently, and covered his hand with her own.

Jay turned his over, lacing his fingers through hers for a light squeeze. "Yeah, let's just keep K away from him. I shouldn't have let her see how bad he gets to me. She'll stomp him to jelly, given half a chance."

"She saw my scars, too," Babs told him. "I need to amend the general notes on Kryptonians in the main computer. They really are _super_-protective."

And despite all the uncertainty and the very real threats out there, that terrible pun made both of them laugh, not least because Jay had said it before himself.

…

Kala didn't get much time to enjoy that win. "The issue was you disappearing with this man, and don't think we're stupid, Kala," Aaron cut back in. "You running off with whoever-he-is prompted the argument with Sebast that led him to walk out of the band. And also forced us to provide a twelve-day rental car and pay for a windshield replacement."

That hit deep, much more on-the-nose than she'd like, but she let it roll off as much as she could. It was a point she'd _known_ they would bring up, but that didn't really help. "You're a _record label_," Kala said drolly. "Two weeks' car rental and a windshield? That's, what, a grand? Hell, I could've paid that. Not to mention, that wasn't _his_ fault. Sebast and I already had issues before that. The incident in Denver just brought it all out in the open."

"Yes, we're aware of those issues," Shawn said. "Did Sebast know you were seeing someone else?"

That earned him her most narrow glare. And here it went again, everyone thinking they understood the situation perfectly, emotional and tangled as the reality of it was. "Someone _else_?" Kala said sharply. "You _are_ aware that the image you promote isn't where things actually stand, right? Sebast and I have never been a couple. People see what they want to see." It wasn't the entire truth, she knew it wasn't, but the complications there were none of their business, either.

"You own a house together," Aaron scoffed.

Her expression narrowed even more at that, having heard that far too many times, too. Enough of that bullshit, already. What she and Sebast had was beyond any simple labels these closed-minded executives could understand. "And Ned and Robb both stay there about half the time when we're not on tour," Kala spat. "The rest of the time they're staying with Morgan, and no one questions _them_. Sebast has been my best friend since I was fourteen; sharing things with someone doesn't qualify as practically married. Why have I had to explain this to everyone I know over the last six months? That's all it ever was."

Except it wasn't. Except for the one night, and yes, they'd dragged all their complications out in that one epic argument. She was lying to them now, it had _always_ been more than friends, but she and Sebast had successfully convinced themselves and each other otherwise. Until someone came along who threatened Sebast's place in her heart, and she had selfishly not considered the consequences, then he'd turned on Kala with a fury all out of proportion to what actually happened.

A pregnant pause, and Brian said, "Your situation with Sebast is … complicated. It has been since last spring. He's been a little distracted, and when you suddenly left for an entire summer, he was … worrisome."

Jenna cleared her throat. "We were hoping that a summer apart would settle whatever was off between you two. At first, it seemed like it had. But then there were all these absences, on your part and his…"

That had her frowning, but for different reasons. Morgan had mentioned that Sebast had been a little more reckless while she'd been gone, and he'd been jealous over lack of communication with her during her training, but that the label had noticed was ominous. Suddenly, she felt her heart contract. "Wait, wait," Kala said, needing to know, holding up her hand. "What do you mean, Sebast was _worrisome_?"

Shawn said, "Acting like it was his first year in the industry. Parties, excessive drinking, not returning calls for hours, enough hookups to populate an entire tabloid. That's normal for Los Angeles, but you were right – your band never did that. And _he_ never did that, either. He never got in trouble with the law, but he was certainly splashing out. The promiscuity was turned up to twelve."

Kala couldn't help blushing with secondhand embarrassment. So they _did_ know about the sheer enormity of screwing around Sebast did.

"Sebast knows what he likes, and he gets plenty of it," Jenna said in a placating tone. "He's never done anything illegal, he doesn't even have a DUI, and none of the guys he was spotted with were underage or married or anything."

"About half of them were supposed to be straight," Brian muttered, but it sounded as much admiration as chagrin.

Jenna took Kala's hand, looking concerned. "We've all seen this before, but again, it's usually the _first_ year. Watching him fall into the party crowd was concerning. When you came back, it all slowed down – but that could've just been because he left L. A. for Metropolis." Remembering now how relieved he'd seemed to be to see her, the way he had snatched her up at the airport, Kala wanted to slump down in her chair. She should have seen the signs, but she'd been too bound up in what _hadn't_ happened with Jay.

"Both of you behaved normally, except for arguing with your manager, until August," Shawn cut in. "After that, it all started to spiral."

_August_. When she'd finally confronted Jay about everything, and started sneaking away to Gotham as often as she could. Neglecting Sebast in the bargain. God, what a mess. But then she really thought about what they were telling her about the last eight months. Kala felt a chill, wondering how much the label actually knew, how close of an eye they'd kept on her and Sebast both. Far more than a recording contract was at risk.

She didn't want to tell them that she'd started seeing Jay then. And she absolutely wasn't going to give away his name. All she said was, "Sounds about right. Has anyone spoken to Sebast, since he walked out?"

"He blocked all of our numbers," Jenna said. "I left voicemails from other phones to try and reach him, but he's stonewalled us."

"Have _you_ spoken to him?" Shawn asked, his eyebrows going up. "He's back in Metropolis, presumably living in your house."

Just the implications in his tone were elevating her blood pressure. _Between he and Aaron right now… _"_Our_ house," Kala corrected, refusing to rise to the bait. "Yes, I spoke to Sebast, briefly. It was very tense, but … not as bad as it could've been."

"Why haven't you said anything to any of us?" Aaron demanded.

"Clearly because it was _very_ tense and it didn't change the situation in the slightest," Kala retorted. _And mostly about my superhero secret identity, which you __**really**__ don't need to guess at._ "And it was also about a month ago. He called me right after he got into Metropolis."

Brian nodded, looking thoughtful. "Okay, at least he reached out to _someone_. Maybe this means there's a chance of reconciliation."

That brought her eyes back to Brian, the thought making her eyes water. How had she not seen what was going to happen? Why hadn't she paid close attention? "There's always a chance of reconciliation," Kala said, her heart aching. "Sebast is my best friend. I wouldn't shut him out, no matter what."

Jenna patted her arm gently. "Kala, we've all seen plenty of best friends, lovers, spouses, even family, fall apart in this industry. It's a lot of pressure, and a lot of money, two things that tend to sour relationships."

"And it's a big investment for the label, which is what this is all about," Kala replied, taking a deep breath and crossing her arms. No matter how personal this was for her, this was what this conversation was really about. "You want me to talk to Sebast, since he won't talk to you."

Aaron said, "He has to talk to _someone_. Otherwise the only communication we can get to him will be a summons." Frank, the lawyer, cleared his throat with a quelling look.

Kala just narrowed her eyes. Speaking of personal… "Oh, is that how it is?"

"That wasn't a threat," Brian said hastily, glaring at Aaron and Shawn.

Jenna also frowned at them. "Kala, the label is prepared to offer mediation, or counseling services, if you think either would help."

_They're gonna pay for what, couples therapy?_ Kala laughed at the thought. "Yeah, no, Sebast would go through the roof. Look, I have to talk to him soon. The holiday break is coming up, and I'm going back to Metropolis. I need to know if he's going to Ponce with his family, or if he's gonna be at the house, so I can make my own plans. He's had some time to cool off and think – we can talk about him coming back to the band then, too."

Frank took a folder out of his briefcase. "When you speak to him, then, we have a list of points to address…"

"No," Kala said firmly, and all of them looked at her. "I have to fix my friendship with him, first. Let us get this right between us as just people. Then we can hit the legalese and work out the business relationship. I don't know if he'll even want to come back to the band, but I have to speak to him as _me_. Not read him a list of talking points from you. He'd get one whiff of that and shut it down just to spite you."

"Very mature," Aaron said dryly.

Kala folded her arms on the table and stared at him, just him, for two beats longer than anyone was comfortable with. "His best friend kept something important a secret from him. I had my reasons, and I'm not going into them with you, but this is something only Sebast and I can sort out. And frankly, gentlemen, Sebast's friendship means more to me that this contract or my career. I can _afford_ to break contract. Most of my royalties and advances are _invested_, remember. I haven't been blowing my money on parties or drugs or fancy cars. There have been times, dealing with Derek, where the _only_ thing keeping me from telling all of you to fuck off was the fact that I had the boys to think of, too. I'm young enough I can go back to college and find another career if I have to. It would suck, I wanted this since I was six years old, but I can do it. I'm the only one Sebast will speak to right now – and I'm going to talk to him on _my_ terms, not yours."

All the suits shared a look, at that. Kala kept her expression stony, though she wanted to smile. Obviously they weren't used to people who couldn't be manipulated so easily. Very little in this world could move a Super when they didn't want to be moved, and the label was just now discovering that.

Jenna mirrored Kala's posture. "Kala does know Sebast better than any of us. And it's worth noting, gentlemen, that _this_ band has acted like seasoned professionals – in all the ways that really matter – from day one. We owe her the chance to resolve the personal issues, and we can trust that she's not going to do anything to sabotage our business efforts."

"Even when she's threatening to break contract?" Aaron demanded.

Brian laughed before Kala could answer. "Didn't sound like a threat to me. More like putting all her cards on the table. I don't know about the rest of you, but I wouldn't like to see what an actual _threat_ sounds like."

Shawn held up a hand before Aaron could speak again. "All right. Kala, we'll let you run this your way. But you should understand – in the interest of putting _our_ cards on the table – your band occupies an extremely niche market. You've managed to broaden your appeal, but you're _not_ the only act we have to consider."

"This is just business for you, I get that," Kala said easily. And never mind the way her heart contracted, thinking about the conversation she had to have with Sebast. They _had_ to talk, but given the way the last conversation ended … she wasn't looking forward to it. Still, she had to keep her focus here and now. "You should also understand that it's not just business for me, and never could be. This is _passion_, this is an art form, and in some ways it's doesn't really matter to me whether I'm singing to a sold-out arena or a packed bar. I do what I do because I love to do it. The money's nice, the fame is actually more of a pain than anything else, but even if our contract doesn't get renewed – and don't think I haven't guessed what you're thinking there – I can still _sing_. I can still get up on a stage and cast my voice over an audience, with or without you. And you're not the only label in the country, either. As an _artist_, I can't consider this a purely business venture. It has to have heart, and soul, to work the way it should. And this with Sebast is a matter of getting our hearts in the right place."

All of them looked at one another, considering. Jenna finally said, "Gentlemen, Kala was right earlier. She's never missed a performance or a rehearsal, and never even been late to one, despite pulling double-duty as the sole lead singer and acting tour manager. I think we have to trust her on this. Correct me if I'm wrong, Frank, but at this point we have nothing actionable, anyway?"

The lawyer nodded. "Ms. Lane-Kent is well within the terms of her contract."

"Okay then," Brian said easily. "The holiday break is coming up. We'll let Kala talk to Sebast, and hopefully he'll reach out to us. If not, we'll revisit this after the first of the year."

The meeting broke up after that, with a few more empty words from the suits, and Kala took the first good opportunity to stand up and leave the room.

Brian and Jenna followed on her heels. "Listen, Kala," Jenna began.

As if she didn't have enough going on right now without this bullshit on top of it. Kala cut her off. "Thanks for that, by the way. I love being shanghaied into an intervention. Really builds my confidence in my own management team. Especially _right_ after a really good session, where I remembered why I wanted this so much for so long."

"You had to know it was coming," Brian said. "They're worried about the money, Kala."

"Yeah, and my _extremely niche market_ sound still plays on the top 40 channels. 'Anything for You' was a top-ten hit. Not bad for Latin-flavored Goth rock." Kala knew she was being waspish, her voice brittle, but she found herself hitting the same kind of adrenaline dump that usually struck after a fight on the streets of Gotham.

Sebast should have been here by her side. Jay understood that kind of fight, guns and blades and fists, body armor and cunning. _This_ kind of fight, artistic integrity against business sense, trying to reach a wider audience without selling out, Jay wouldn't have a clue about it. Sebast would. He'd made an art of firing back business jargon at the suits, of showing up dressed to the nines himself and looking so respectable that they tended to forget which side he was on … until he spoke up.

Kala missed him _so much_.

She'd been okay for a while, not thinking about it, but his absence hit her right in the chest again, and for a moment it was all she could do to keep walking steadily and not let her eyes water.

"Look, I'm sorry for springing that on you," Jenna said. "_They_ sprung it on _me_. But we can't keep up the family emergency fiction much longer. We need to either get Sebast back, or move forward with KLK as a one-voice band."

"I'll call him," Kala said, walking a little faster to end that discussion. Technically Brian and Jenna were on her side, but right now, she just wanted to curl up in her hotel alone. And try to ignore the icy fist clenched around her stomach at those words. She'd been avoiding the thought as much as possible, but Sebast might not want to have anything to do with her going forward. Keeping a secret as big as hers – not telling him something as fundamental as her _species_ – was a serious breach of trust.

One way or another, Kala had to deal with this, though. She was all out of running room.


	21. Hope That I'll Be Given Some Peace

Selina _finally_ found a parking space, and neatly parallel-parked the rental car. She glanced up and down the street, wary as ever despite the fact that both she and her passenger were as close to incognito as they were ever going to get.

Said passenger was wearing a curly auburn wig and a shocking amount of makeup, skillfully applied to look like no makeup at all. The red hair kept making Selina's eye twitch, however. Her own wig was a short black number she'd worn for work before, but it wouldn't be recognizable here. In Brooklyn, no one knew Selina Kyle, and Catwoman was just a name on the news.

Harleen Quinzel, however, was notorious to a select few people. One of whom was just backing out of his driveway now. He passed their car without a second glance, and Harley whispered, "Putz."

"Hush," Selina scolded. "You still want me to go talk to her first?"

"Yeah," Harley muttered, scooting further down in her seat as a police car passed them. "She might not slam the door in _your_ face right away." The cop never gave them a second glance, which was to be expected – it was a normal morning in a normal residential area of Prospect Heights, and they were just two normal-looking women in a perfectly normal sedan parked half a block up from the house where Harley Quinn's sister happened to live.

"All right. Don't get squirrelly, Harley. Just wait here." Harley nodded, reclining her seat and taking out a book, just in case someone noticed her. Selina patted her knee gently, checked traffic, and got out of the car. She walked up the sidewalk, looking at all the brownstone rowhouses with a professional eye; they'd be easy to scale, and she could slip from one window to the next all the way down the block.

She wasn't here to break in, though, and Selina mounted the steps to the address Harley had pointed out. David Southard had just left for work; he was an up and coming tax attorney with a firm in Manhattan, and his wife would be home with their two daughters. School was out for Christmas break, and Delia Southard was currently a stay-at-home mother. She did plenty of volunteer work, though; Selina had done her research. Delia's life was so squeaky-clean, it almost looked suspicious.

Selina wondered how much of that was secondhand atonement, then pushed the thought aside, ringing the bell.

She waited, her breath frosty, and finally a light came on in the hall. The door didn't open, but a woman's voice spoke clearly. "You see the sign that says 'No Solicitation', right? I promise it applies to you, too."

"I promise it doesn't," Selina replied. "Mrs. Southard? Could I have moment, please?"

A pause, and she could see the woman's form through the frosted glass, but not in any detail. Not enough to let her read her expression. "What's this about?"

"I'd rather explain inside, if I may," Selina said in her most conciliatory voice. "This isn't a sales pitch or any kind of religious proselytizing, I swear."

"Oh, then it's about my sister," Delia said coldly. "She's not here. And if you don't have a warrant, I suggest you get off my stoop. The police make regular patrols just in case she decides to visit."

Selina sighed, and listened to the other woman walk away from the door. Harley had warned her this would be hard, and she'd expected difficulty even before that, but not _this_.

Luckily she had her lock picks, and there wasn't a chain. The door was open before Delia even left the hallway. The woman whirled around, revealing brunette hair and a face with just enough family resemblance to make Selina's heart clench. "What … _how_ … who _are_ you?"

"You can call me Cat," Selina said, closing the door behind her and locking it. "Sorry about that, it's a professional skill. Listen, this _is_ about your sister, but I just want to talk. I just need like ten minutes of your time."

A much younger voice floated up the hall. "Mom? Who's that?"

"Go upstairs," Delia said, her voice suddenly sharp.

"But Mom…"

"Upstairs. _Now_. You can watch TV if you're quiet." Selina heard the thumping of sneakers, and then Delia shoved her hands into the pockets of her sensible slacks, glaring at her. "Cat, huh? Last name Woman?"

"In a manner of speaking," Selina said, with a sheepish smile.

"Wonderful, it's not enough that Harley's gotten herself splashed across the news, now she brings her whole damn circus to town, too." Delia glowered at her, shoulders tense, and continued, "The FBI's already been here. I had a phone interview with someone from the Gotham City Police Department, too. If you're trying to find Harley, you're out of luck. She's not here, and she knows damn well she's not _welcome_ here, either."

Selina held up her hands, startled by the vehemence. "Whoa, whoa, let's just calm down a minute, okay? I'm not 'her whole circus', I'm just one person."

The attempt fell flat, Delia's chin jutting forward, and she took her hands out of her pockets to reveal a small stun gun. "This is technically illegal, but a detective told me to keep it handy. I _will_ use it, and my girls know that 'if you're quiet' is code for 'barricade the door and call 911 if you hear screams'. So don't make any sudden moves unless you'd really like to get arrested in a new city, hmm?"

Fighting the urge to bolt, Selina took a deep breath. "I'm _not_ trying to find Harley. I'm here on her behalf. She asked me to talk to you."

"So talk," Delia said, her eyes narrowing. "Also, knowing where she is and not turning her in is _not_ doing you any favors in my book."

That, finally, provoked Selina's temper. "Oh, you want me to turn her in? So she can be locked up in Arkham? They might as well gift-wrap her for Joker."

"Say that name in my house again, you get a hundred thousand volts right in the face," Delia spat.

"_I don't like him either,_" Selina snapped back, and got control of her anger. "Look, Delia, I finally convinced Harley to leave the country. She's just not safe without an ocean between her and _him_. But she won't go until she talks to you, so here I am. She's my _friend_, dammit."

"You need better friends, lady," Delia replied. "You think I haven't seen this coming? Ever since that freak landed in the hospital – she would've been better off if she'd killed him. I'm lucky I've got friends in the right places, or I'd have reporters camped out on my doorstep all day and night, trying to get that _exclusive interview_."

"Okay, I can't argue with most of that," Selina said in conciliatory tones. "Especially the part about killing him. But I've got a bad feeling about all this, and I'd rather see her leave than try to fight it out."

She tried to suppress the shiver that ran down her spine, mentioning that bad feeling. It had been more than that; Miss Kitty had come into the living room and sat on the coffee table, staring at her, until Selina turned off the television and looked back at her.

Selina maintained to everyone that she wasn't a metahuman, that she was a perfectly ordinary master thief with a background in gymnastics and martial arts, who also happened to be fairly lucky on occasion and to have acquired certain skills with a bullwhip. She played into the feline aesthetic and the cat myths, joking about having nine lives, but even if pressed, she never claimed to be anything but human.

No one ever asked what Miss Kitty was. Not even Selina.

The cat had stared at her, and Selina had stared back, the hair on the back of her neck slowly rising. A hunch had formed, growing like a cancer between her shoulder-blades, wrapping around her spine and sending icy tendrils into her heart. _Harley was in danger._ Not immediate, she never got premonitions that useful, but looking into those green-gold eyes Selina had felt her stomach drop with the horrible certainty that if Harley stayed in Gotham, she was going to die, and badly.

She'd gone to the girls the same night and handed over her share of the bank job, on the condition that they run for it. Selina couldn't explain her insistence, but neither of them had questioned her. Pam already wanted to be gone; just a few days ago Joker had killed two women, a redhead and a blonde. No connection to any kind of crime, he'd literally picked two victims for their hair color, then shot them both in the head, gutted them, and left their bodies behind a florist's shop that Pam had once briefly worked at, long ago before she became Poison Ivy. Selina knew the Bats were getting antsy about it; there were other signs she wasn't privy to, but the murders had made the news. The sheer randomness of it was concerning, and Harley had finally let herself be persuaded to let someone _else_ kill Joker. _She_ needed to get out, while she still could.

And it all would've gone just fine except that Harley insisted on seeing her sister first. And Selina couldn't blame Harley for wanting to see her family before she left the country, but damn, this whole situation was dicey as hell. Every minute they spent in the open was dangerous, and if they screwed up and got arrested, Joker would know exactly where to find Harley.

Delia must've heard some kind of sincerity in her voice, because she lowered the taser. A little. "Leaving the country, huh? I've heard that before. Usually right before she went back to _him_."

Selina clenched her jaw angrily. "This isn't the same. She's left him for good."

"Lady, she's left him for good a dozen times," Delia said, and her voice was _tired_.

She wasn't the only one. Frustration bubbled over into honesty. "Stop with the 'lady' crap, all right? My name is Selina." That earned her a pause, Delia blinking; she had to know that Catwoman didn't just go around handing out her real name. Selina continued, "And I _know_, okay? I've been her friend for long enough, I've seen Harley leave him and go back and get the hell beaten out of her more times than I like to think about. This is _different_. She's never beaten him into a coma with a _chair_ before. His _skull_ was fractured, Delia. You don't get it; no one in Gotham messes with Joker. Not more than once. Every scary psychotic bastard in town treads carefully around _him_. And Harley came within a hair's breadth of _killing_ him. She's not going back; she _can't_. Even she knows that he'll kill her if he catches her, and probably mail identifiable pieces of her to every precinct in town."

"All right," Delia said roughly, her brows furrowed. "God, you don't have to… She's still my sister."

"She has to get out," Selina said, conviction trembling in her tone. "I just gave her a quarter of a million dollars to help her, and trust me, I don't usually do the Robin Hood thing like that. Poison Ivy's already packed her bags – he's gunning for _her_, too, and frankly I'd bet on her in a fight, but I'm trying to help them disappear. And the only way I can convince Harley to go is if she sees _you_ first. So turn the defensiveness down a bit, all right?"

Delia bit her lip, and the expression on her face said she was still thinking about the whole 'pieces in the mail' bit. Which had been melodramatic, yes, but not inaccurate. "Okay, I just … look, you don't know what it's like. I married a _lawyer_. I've tried to have a safe, sane, stable life, mostly for those girls. I _love_ my sister, I always have – she's been a pain in the ass her whole life, but I love her. Watching her do this, it's like … watching someone cut my own arm off, bit by bit."

Selina could sympathize with that more than she wanted to. "You have to keep her at a distance, because if you don't, you get hurt. And it's worse for you, you've got a husband and two daughters to worry about. I understand, you have to protect them."

"Yeah," Delia said shakily. "Look, I … I want to believe she means it this time. Nothing would make me happier. I just … it's hard. I've learned not to trust anything, where she's concerned. It's like having a junkie in the family, they always say they're getting clean, and they always relapse. And there's _nothing_ you can do for them, until they wanna quit."

Comparing Harley's relationship with Joker to a drug addiction was surprisingly accurate. "Trust me, she's quit now. There's a price on her head in Gotham that makes _everyone_ nervous." Selina shivered; she didn't even dare go to the Iceberg now. Everyone knew the girls were her friends, and that bounty was very tempting.

Delia sighed. "What made it different, this time? What finally made her snap?"

A deep breath, and Selina told her, "Harley's protective, too. Must run in the family. The bastard shot one of her hyenas. If she hadn't needed to get her baby to the hospital, she would've finished the job right then."

Something shadowy crossed Delia's eyes. "There is that. Harley might not be within shouting distance of sane, but at least she knows that monster isn't father material."

Selina started to nod, and then stopped abruptly. Things suddenly made sense: Harley's insistence on coming here, Delia's fierce protectiveness, the fact that she hadn't seen either of the girls. A certain period of time where Harley had been absent from Gotham for over six months. And the fact that Delia's two daughters were named Rachel and _Lucy_. Selina had only skimmed the information she could find on the family, but she was willing to bet Lucy's legal name was Lucille, after Lucille Ball. The same way Bud and Lou were named for Bud Abbott and Lou Costello. "Oh my _God_," she whispered, eyes going wide. "Lucy's her _daughter_?"

Delia scowled. "I thought you already knew. You said she was your _friend_."

"She _is_, but I'll bet no one knows. Maybe Ivy, but no one else. That's something she hid _deep_; the fewer people know, the safer the girl is. If no one else knows, no one can point him at Lucy, not even under torture." Selina shuddered; she didn't like carrying dangerous knowledge, and this was worse than the nuclear codes.

At last, Delia gave a stern nod. "I'm not surprised she sent you in here to negotiate without telling you. It's just like Harley. All right, fine, if she's serious about leaving the country, I'm sure she wants to see the girls, too. My husband can't know – he'll have a fit and tip off the police – but we can make arrangements somehow. The girls are both on winter break, we can come to Gotham, or maybe all meet in Metropolis."

Selina winced again. "Delia … she wanted to talk to you _today_. Harley's waiting in the car half a block away."

Oh, the cold glare that got her! "You left my unstable, unpredictable idiot of a sister alone in a car for _this_ long? There's police patrols every half hour! We're lucky she hasn't gotten nervous and blown something up out of sheer stress!"

"We would've heard an explosion," Selina replied.

"You should've led with the fact that she was _here_," Delia hissed. "God, I can't have her spotted near the house. _Please_ tell me she's disguised enough to pass for an ordinary Brooklynite?"

"You don't see me wearing cat ears, do you?" Selina shot back. "Come _on_. We had to go through toll booths to get here."

"Fine, fine. Meet us in the park in twenty minutes, at Ambergill Falls," Delia said hurriedly. "And tell her not to say a word to Lucy, okay? She's _six_. She doesn't need to know she's adopted until she's old enough to handle all the rest of the baggage that comes with it. I'll tell her, when it's time, but she doesn't need this now."

Selina nodded; she was getting a little nervous about leaving Harley alone this long, too. "I'll see you in twenty," she said, and let herself out as Delia headed upstairs to collect her girls.

…

Dinah couldn't help it; when the doorbell buzzed at Clock Tower in the middle of the day, she had her escrima sticks in her hands before she even looked at the cameras. And her throat was humming, which was even more concerning. She _never_ used the canary-cry as a first line defense. It had too much potential for collateral damage, and besides, keeping it as a reserve last-ditch weapon meant that people tended to forget she even had it. Most enemies didn't plan on defending themselves against it.

But Joker was out, and while Dinah enjoyed a good fight, nothing Joker was involved in ever turned out _good_. So she was ready for the bad kind of fight, and grateful that Babs was actually deeply asleep for once. The bell would wake her if it rang again, and if Joker was on the camera footage Dinah would hit the red-alert lockdown and _that_ would wake her.

She knew the security system well enough to bring up the camera feed, and saw two people standing outside. Dinah cursed under her breath, stowing the sticks, and hurriedly buzzed them in. Still not waking Babs – this was the first time in a week she'd slept more than three hours at a stretch – Dinah went to meet them at the elevator, her mouth turned down in a disapproving scowl and her blue eyes flinty.

The doors dinged open softly, and a high voice cried out, "Di! Hi hi _hi_!"

At the same time, Roy Harper grinned at her, both hands on his daughter's shoulders. "Hi, Mom."

He let Lian go, and she swarmed Dinah, who picked her up out of reflex. She kissed the little girl's jet-black hair, giving her a big hug. "Hey, sweetheart," Dinah said, her voice softening. Her eyes didn't, though, and she glared at Roy. "I told you it wasn't safe to come, this year."

"Yeah, well, you should know by now I don't listen real well," he replied. "All those years of not listening to Ollie, I just automatically tune out parental instructions. I must get that from you."

Roy stepped forward to hug her, too, and Lian giggled at being squeezed between them. Dinah huffed, but put her free arm around her adopted son. "You're incorrigible. And no one listens to Ollie because he's _Ollie_. I have better sense. Roy, I told you to wait it out, I'd come to you as soon as I could. Now you're here a day early? With the baby?"

"Not a baby," Lian grumbled, scowling at her, and Dinah kissed her forehead to mollify her.

"Look, Dinah," Roy sighed. "You know I've been through enough, I don't scare easy. I'm not worried about the situation here. There's a whole flock of Bats and Birds, we've got a Wonder coming in any day now, and rumor has it Gotham finally earned its own Super. Plus, now you've got me, and I'm not exactly a civilian. I haven't seen you in almost a year, I'm not gonna stay away for Christmas."

"You're a stubborn … butthead," Dinah said, changing her phrasing at the last minute for Lian's ears. "You'd think you were genetically a Queen."

Roy crossed his arms, putting on an air of offense. "More like a Lance, thank you very much. Also, where's my stepmother? I would've thought she'd be the first one yelling."

"Babs is asleep, for the first time in a while, and I'm not waking her for anything short of alien invasion or volcanic eruption," Dinah replied, raising her eyebrows. They both knew why Babs was under stress, right now.

"I wanna see Barb'ra," Lian said, frowning.

"Let her rest, squeaker, she works hard," Roy murmured, stroking her dark hair. "Barbara will be thrilled to see you later, okay? It's not like she's gonna be able to hide from you forever. She knows you'll track her down." With that, he winked at Lian, getting another giggle.

Dinah shifted Lian to her hip, and finally let herself smile at Roy. Catching him by the nape of the neck, she tugged him down and kissed the top of his head. "All right, my stubborn child. Despite everything, I'm glad you're here."

"Glad to be here," Roy said with a warm smile.

"Let me see what we have in the way of lunch, and I'll bring you up to date," Dinah replied. "God knows Bruce isn't going to part with any more information than he has to."

…

Harley shoved her hands in her pockets, staring at the waterfall. She'd felt far too exposed walking into the park; despite her wig and makeup, and a wool cap and sunglasses too, she couldn't shake the feeling that people were staring at her. Selina, at her side, had looked perfectly at home strolling along the street, and Harley had taken a measure of comfort from that.

Now she was here, hyper-aware of every jogger that passed them, trying to focus instead on a handful of chilly-looking starlings stopping in to drink from the pool kept open by the moving water. Selina stood close enough that their elbows touched, eyeing the birds, and Harley leaned into her gratefully. "This's real nice, now," Harley said. "It was a swamp, when I was a kid. The water didn't even really flow, and people left trash on the trails. The big restoration project hadn't gotten here yet. But now? It's real pretty. Like the mountains upstate."

"It is nice," Selina agreed. This part of the park felt like being in the deep woods, someplace entirely wild. There were trees around them older than the park itself, and Harley thought Ivy would've loved the place. She hadn't come along, thinking the three of them together would be too risky. Ivy was the hardest to hide. Harley still missed her; Selina was a good friend, but Ivy was her security, right now.

A nervous silence passed, and then Selina spoke again, in a soothing murmur. "They'll be here."

"Or the cops will," Harley replied dolefully.

Selina shook her head. "She knows that calling them would be risking your life. Relax, Harley. I think she wants to see you, too."

Harley gave a jagged laugh, a little too loud, and clamped a hand over her mouth until it passed. "Yeah, no. She doesn't want anything to do with me. She's made that very clear."

"She has the girls to protect," Selina pointed out. "I get the feeling she loves you, Harley. She just doesn't live in our world."

"She shouldn't have to. Delia didn't ask for this. I shouldn't have come here, I shoulda left them alone." Harley shivered, hunching her shoulders inside her coat. It was selfish of her to want this, but damn, she didn't know when she'd be able to come back. _If_ she'd be able to come back. If she'd even make it out in the first place. She loved Lucy with all her broken messed-up heart, and knew that the best thing she could do for her daughter was _stay away_. That was its own special kind of hell, right there.

Selina wrapped an arm around her, chafing her shoulder lightly. "Well, you're here now. Pull it together, Harls. They'll be here any minute." Harley turned and leaned her forehead against Selina's shoulder, silently grateful. She hadn't even said anything about the secret Delia had revealed, and Harley had expected a freakout over _that_. Selina was taking it very well, and being a really supportive friend about the whole crazy situation. Harley couldn't help feeling like she didn't deserve it.

Each minute stretched into hours, until Harley heard a familiar voice on the Esdale bridge, headed their way. "No, the carousel's closed, girls. We're going for a walk. We can stop for lunch on the way home."

Her stomach swooped like she was on the Cyclone, her very first adrenaline rush, and Harley turned hopeful eyes toward the three coming toward them. Delia, God, Delia looked just the same as ever, and Rachel was getting so _tall_, look at the leg on that kid! She must've been almost ten by now. And…

Harley shivered. Lucy looked like _her_, like a photo from her past come to life, right down to the way she hooked her thumbs into the loose fabric of her coat. Her blonde hair spilled out from beneath her hat in the same golden fall that Harley remembered from her youth, and she had the same bouncy energetic walk.

Delia was leading the girls along the path to the falls, and she clearly saw both of them waiting for her. She'd seen Selina less than half an hour ago, she'd be looking for the long black coat that draped her elegantly. Harley saw her eyes light on Selina, assessing, then flick to Harley.

She slowed down, looking, and Harley looked back, feeling awkward. Too young and too loud and too smart and too _everything_, the way she always did around Delia. There were only two years between them, but somehow Delia had always managed to be practical and poised, while Harley was … neither of those things. Ever.

Delia stopped a little distance away. Both girls looked at them curiously; it had been years since Harley saw them last. Rachel might remember her, vaguely, but the hat and glasses and wig would stump her. Lucy couldn't possibly remember. She was only six; her last meeting with her mother had been half her lifetime ago.

"Fancy meeting you here," Selina said, breaking the silence.

"Who're you?" Rachel asked.

"Girls, that's the lady who came to see us a little while ago," Delia said, her voice controlled and calm, her eyes fixed on Harley. "And that's your Aunt Harleen."

Oh, right. As if everything else wasn't turning her world upside down, she had to be _Harleen_ again, too. "Hey, Delia," she said, her voice sounding rusty. "Long time no see."

Rachel frowned, glancing from one to the other. "I thought Dad said we couldn't talk to Aunt Harleen. Or about her."

"Yeah, Dad did say that," Delia sighed. "But she's _my_ sister, not his. We might not be able to see her again for a while, so I figured we'd have a visit, while we can."

A pause, and then Rachel asked, "Do we have to keep this a secret?"

"No. No secrets. Daddy will be mad at _me_, though, not you," Delia immediately replied.

"I don't want Daddy to be mad at you, Mom," Lucy said, and she even _sounded_ like Harley. The only thing that was different was her eyes, a bright jewel green, and Harley knew _exactly_ where she'd gotten that color. Please God let that be the _only_ thing she'd gotten from him.

Delia heaved a sigh. "Some things are worth getting mad about, sweetheart. Don't worry, it's grownup business. And you never have to worry about grownup things until you are a grownup. That's my job."

"You're a better mom than ours ever was," Harley said, smiling shyly.

"Yeah, that's not saying much," Delia laughed. "Come on, let's walk. These two need the exercise."

"But _Mom_, it's _cold_," Rachel said.

"So walk faster, you'll get warm," Delia replied. And then despite insisting on keeping this meeting in motion, she crossed to Harley and wrapped her in a firm hug.

Harley threw her arms around her sister, and she was still wearing that same perfume David had gotten her years ago for Christmas, she still smelled the same and felt the same and for one heartbreaking moment Harley wanted to spin the clock back and never go to Gotham, never take that internship, never cross paths with madness. She choked back a sob, squeezing Delia tight.

"You can't cry, all the makeup will come off," Delia scolded, and _God_ that was so her, practical as ever. Harley found herself laughing instead.

They got moving, the girls bouncing around the path slightly ahead of them, Selina fading back to one side. "Thanks for coming," Harley said quietly.

"How could I not? You're mishpocha, Harleen." Delia glanced at her sideways, and smiled a little sadly. "Your feline friend there says you're leaving the country."

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna hafta," Harley admitted. "I literally can't show my face in Gotham right now. Too many people after me. And for doing something good, for once."

Delia huffed a breath out of her nose. "You got a weird definition of good, Harleen. But we're not talking about that in front of the girls."

Harley glanced at them carefully; Rachel and Lucy weren't paying much attention to the conversation, but she understood Delia's reluctance. _They shouldn't have to worry about grownup things._ "I wish I'd finished it. You tryin' to tell me that wouldn't be a good thing?"

Surprise bloomed on Delia's face, and Harley's mouth twisted into a rueful smile. She'd never been quite this adamant; tearful, heartbroken, frightened, sure, but never this angry. Never this cold. Delia finally said, "I can't say that, Harleen. C'mon, what we're talking about? You'd be better off, yeah, maybe a whole lot of other people would be better off too, but I can't say that's a _good_ thing."

Harley nodded slowly, understanding. Delia couldn't conscience murder. And she knew how much blood was already on Harley's hands. That was why she'd been rude to Selina, who'd gotten in the car muttering about what a bitch Harley's sister was. Harley disagreed; Delia was a real balabusta, a woman who took care of what was hers, and made sure everyone knew it. Harley had given Lucy to Delia not just because she was her only remaining family. She'd done it because she'd known Delia would love Lucy fiercely, and protect her from everything and anything, and make sure she never turned out like Harley.

Bittersweet, to know her daughter was being raised to be everything she hadn't been, but maybe that gave Lucy a better chance in life. _Any_ chance to escape what her parents were, Harley would have given her.

"I brought Chanukah presents and gelt," Harley said, changing the subject before she got maudlin. "They're in the trunk. I didn't want to carry bags through the park though."

Delia nodded. "We still celebrate both. I was worried they'd be confused, with a Christmas tree and a menorah, but they're young enough they just like the presents. Besides, the school's really diverse, they've got friends from all over the place."

"That's good," Harley murmured, and they fell silent again. They were walking up toward Sullivan Hill, the girls still ahead of them.

"So where are you going?" Delia asked.

Harley shook her head. "I can't tell you. Besides, we're not even sure. It's got to be a long way away, and we've gotta hide deep. He'll be looking for me."

Delia kicked through a pile of wet leaves, and asked reluctantly, "I understand. Just … does he know you have a sister?"

That brought Harley to a dead halt, and she felt like the whole world had just dropped right on top of her chest. "Oh, God. I don't … I never _told_ him, but it's not like… People forget how _smart_ he is. Shit, Delia, he might know. He might find out."

"Then it's a good thing no one knows we're here," Selina said from right beside her. She glanced between the two women, then looked at the girls, frowning. "You've got police protection, right, Delia?"

"Yeah, but it didn't stop you," Delia pointed out.

Harley started to rake her hands through her hair, remembered she was wearing a wig, and just clutched a handful of it worriedly. "Ah, shit, Selina, we gotta get them outta town too. We're gonna hafta hit another bank…"

"No," Selina said, even as Delia shook her head at the notion. "Harley, we _can't_. We only got away with the first one because they weren't expecting it. Batman's watching the banks, I'm sure, and no one in town will launder the money. Penguin did us a favor, but his starting price was _fifty percent_ – where we are now, he wouldn't touch it even for that much."

Scowling, Harley told her, "Then we get Delia and the kids out, and Pam and I make a run for it. We can do it without the startup, just hit a bank someplace they don't expect us…"

"And leave a trail for him to follow? No, Harley. Look, I'll get my boyfriend on it."

"Which one?" Harley asked, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing out loud. She knew who she'd sound like. Bruce Wayne might have enough money to hand over, but he wasn't good for much else. And Batman … well, shit, if Batman could stop Joker, he would've done it already.

"Both of them," Selina said, and she and Harley ignored Delia's skeptical look. "Look, the playboy's got property all over the place. I'm sure I can find a house somewhere safe. And the Bat can make sure they disappear without a trace."

"Hold on," Delia said. "You want me to pick up my whole family, including my husband who doesn't even know we're talking about this, and move them into … off-brand witness protection? A week before Christmas? Are you _serious_?"

Selina was the one who rounded on her, glancing ahead to make sure the girls were out of earshot. "When Joker realizes that Harley isn't in town, he's going to be furious. You don't understand, his reputation took a major hit. His freakin' _sidekick_ damn near took him out. He _has_ to kill her, or the rest of them will tear him apart. And sooner or later, he's going to think of _you_."

"He's gonna think of you, too, Selina," Harley whispered, shivering. She hadn't thought far enough ahead.

"Yeah, but I've got nine lives," Selina said breezily. "I'm a little freaked out, yeah, but look who I run with. I've got the whole bunch of Bats – and Hood's more than a match for _him_. Hell, if it comes down to it, I'm pretty sure Blur would punch his clock. I heard a different version of how it went down at the school, Harley."

"Do I even want to know about a school?" Delia asked sharply.

"Considering I dimed him out when I realized he was going after kids, no," Harley shot back, and saw Selina's eyebrows go up. Hadn't admitted to that one yet, either. All of her secrets were coming out, and that was just another reason to skip town and go someplace greener. "You should come with us, Selina. We make a good team. And I'm worried about you, staying in town. This is gonna put him _way_ over the top."

"We always knew it would," Selina replied. "I've got it, Harley. If push comes to shove, I'll call B-man's other woman and ask her to take out your ex. She'd love for me to owe her that big. Having the Queen of Assassins for a rival has to be useful for _something_."

Harley winced a little, and Delia sighed. "For my own mental health, I'm gonna forget like half of this conversation. Oy vey, Harleen, could you _be_ any more complicated?"

"Look, I didn't _mean_ to get this far into it," Harley said. "I just … fell in love with the wrong guy."

"At least you fell in love with the right girl, eventually," Selina said, with a small smile.

Delia shook her head again, holding her hands out. "Still a super-villain, but okay. It's an improvement. She's not Jewish though, is she?"

Harley scoffed. "Like you can talk. _You_ married a goy! Just being named David doesn't make him Jewish."

"And I heard about it from Mom every single time we spoke, right up until she got sick, even though we're raising the girls interfaith," Delia said. "I was just kidding, anyway. You're all talking about assassins, I needed to lighten it up."

"Speaking of which, Selina, will you get in touch with Floyd? Tell him I miss him?" Harley smirked, and added, "I know he misses me, and he better _keep_ missing me."

"Don't want to know," Delia sighed, and realized the girls were almost out of sight. She set out after them, walking briskly. "Come on, enough of this. I'll talk to David tonight. We can probably get out on our own."

"I'll be in touch, just in case," Selina said.

Harley caught her hand, and smiled. "You're a damn good friend, you know that?"

"I try to be," Selina said.

"Come on," Delia said again, more gently this time. "You wanted to talk to the girls, I know. We'll deal with grownup stuff later."

Harley reached out, and took Delia's hand, feeling for a second like she was bridged between her two lives, half Harleen and half Harley, with her sister on one side and Catwoman on the other. "Thanks for letting me see them," she murmured.

Delia's eyes softened. "I know you love them both. I know you love _her_. It's just … we don't talk about it, much. The whole situation. I don't want her to know anything until she's old enough to understand. Mostly 'cause I don't want her to hate you, or something. She's still your baby, Harleen."

The last was said so softly that Selina probably didn't even hear it, but it broke Harley's heart nonetheless. Lucy was Delia's daughter, she'd known the moment she handed the girl over that it had to be that way. For Delia to acknowledge this now … it validated how much Harley loved her little girl.

And she was only going to get an hour or so with her, before they left. Harley steeled herself, knowing she was going to cry later, probably have a full-on breakdown. Talking to her daughter, _not_ telling her the truth, just pretending to be her aunt, would hurt almost as much as giving her up in the first place. At least Delia gave her this much.

It was worth it, though, for something _good_ to have come out of all the pain and madness.

…

Mid-week was not a busy time for this particular restaurant; they did most of their trade on the weekends, but there were enough regulars in on weeknights to keep them afloat. Like many other establishments in downtown Gotham, they paid a premium for doing business. For the last six months, that premium had been paid to two men in suits who came in, stopped at the hostess stand, received an unmarked envelope full of cash, and then left. The owner assumed they were Falcone's men; the masks were more ostentatious.

The owner had made another assumption, and that was that paying the ten percent premium acted as a kind of insurance. Normally that would be the case, but these days in Gotham, the rules were changing.

The dishwasher, Paul, had just taken out the used fryer oil, lugging the heavy tray back inside, and the first indication anyone had that something wasn't right was the fact that the door failed to close behind him. He balanced the tray on the edge of an empty sink, and turned with a sigh to yank the heavy door closed.

Like a magic trick, three men had appeared in the washroom behind him. Two of them might as well have been invisible, because the one in the middle was the Joker.

The dishwasher was twenty-two, fresh out of prison on drug and assault charges, and his employment options were limited, so he'd taken this dirty and exhausting job. He expected a certain amount of grinding at lower levels, until he could show a solid work history and get something else, something better. Looking into the Joker's eyes, he suddenly realized that this might become his _last_ job.

"Hi there," Joker said cheerfully. "Sorry to burst in on you like this, but I have an urgent meeting with your manager in five minutes. Didn't want to be late, going through the front. Besides, starting a riot is bad for custom." He smiled, and the smile went way too far back, like his face was about to peel back from his teeth.

Paul felt his knees getting loose, and his bladder was suddenly heavy, throbbing. "Manager's not in," he managed to say.

"Oh, now that's too bad. I hate to be kept waiting. Who's in charge? Maitre d'? Head chef? Someone like that?" Joker's voice was still perfectly calm and level, but the two guys with him had their hands on their guns. Somehow Joker was scarier, for not being armed at all. Paul's throat had gone dry, and worse, his mind had gone blank. He _knew_ the names of everyone who bossed him around, but at the moment, he couldn't remember them. Then Joker took a long step forward, and suddenly he was much closer to the dishwasher than he had been before, _too_ close.

Before he could think about scrambling backward, there was a knife under his chin, one he hadn't even seen Joker draw. "What's wrong, cat got your tongue?" he asked silkily, and then something changed in Joker's eyes. "Nasty little thieving animals, cats, aren't they? But like the adage says, there's more than one way to skin one. And I find a nice fluffy rug helps a lot, on those cold winter mornings. But listen, pal, if you don't cough up a name, I'm going to have to check on the state of your tongue myself. A little cut riiiiight here–" The knife pressed in, hard, under the shelf of his jaw– "and it just flops right down to your collar. Not exactly fashionable anymore, red ties are out this season, but functional."

"Pleasedon'tkillme," Paul whispered, and the name arrived in his mind then, just as Joker increased the pressure. "Anton, the maitre d' is in charge when the manager's out. He's in the office. Please don't kill me, Mr. Joker, sir."

That won him a horrifying smile, and Joker withdrew the knife, clapping him on the shoulder in a friendly way. "And where's the office, my fine young friend?"

Paul's teeth were chattering, but he managed to point. "That hall. Second door."

"Thank you very much," Joker said politely, and turned away. The two men with him glanced at him, then dismissed him and followed their boss. A moment later, he heard a door kicked in, the cut-off beginnings of a shout, and then a lot of thumping and scuffling. Paul had both administered and received beatings, he knew what he was hearing, but what undid him was the whimpering. Anton was a cold-hearted bastard, he'd dismissed Paul's prison ink with barely a glance, and not even the head chef – six-five with biceps like a power lifter – intimidated him. If that was Anton whimpering as they did whatever they were doing…

It was five minutes later, still standing rooted to the spot and shivering as if the back washroom was freezing instead of uncomfortably warm with steam from the big dishwashing machine, that Paul realized he'd pissed himself. And he didn't even know _when_.

…

Jay woke up, slapping at his phone until the alarm stopped beeping and buzzing, and laid in bed for a few minutes. He just wanted to go back to sleep … but he'd stayed at the Manor, and he didn't want to miss breakfast. Not as if Alfred wouldn't make another plate just for him; he hated to put the butler to that much trouble. And if he was honest with himself, he liked eating in company with the rest of the family, however many of them happened to be here. Around the holidays everyone tended to drift in and out anyway, and right now there was the added concern of Joker being loose in the city. Everyone was on edge; Joker was trying to make some kind of _statement_, and apparently trying to lure Harley out of hiding, too.

There'd been those two murdered women, and then a sudden change in the gang situation. A whole ten blocks that used to pay up to the Falcones now paid Joker instead. More recently, a car bomb at a police station. The car had been loaded with fireworks in addition to barrels of ANFO and diesel fuel mixture, so the resulting explosion was surreal and macabre. The hood of the car had been recovered almost intact, blown off in a single large piece. Despite the charring, the police had been able to discern the leering face painted on the inside of the hood – one of Joker's trademarks. Several boxes of playing cards in the trunk hadn't survived so well, raining down like confetti while the fireworks whistled and boomed.

What chilled Jay the most was when they recovered the car's VIN, and found it that Dick had owned it briefly. He'd needed a vehicle that fit with the Wayne playboy image at the time, and had sold it six months after he bought it, finding it too small to comfortably drive. That had been years ago, and the Porsche coupe was eventually traced to the junkyard it had landed in after the fourth owner totaled it. Joker had somehow acquired that specific car – there was no bill of sale at the junkyard, no explanation for why it was missing from their inventory – and it _might_ have been a coincidence. Joker liked sports cars, too.

None of the Bats believed in coincidence. Not when Joker had also set fire to a library Babs had worked at. Was he aiming at the commissioner's daughter and an officer of the Blüdhaven PD, or did he know more? Not knowing was making Jay antsy.

It made all of them antsy. Selina was disappearing at odd times, going off the radar entirely for days at a time, and they all _knew_ she was in regular contact with Harley and Ivy. Jay wondered if Bruce couldn't track her, or if he was letting her act unhindered because she had a chance of keeping Harley _away_ from Joker.

Word on the street was that the bounty on Harley's head was now over ten million. Twenty, if she was brought in alive. Jay hoped like hell she was taking Selina's advice, and getting the hell out of Gotham.

And all of those dark speculations would curdle the rest of his day, if he let them. Fortunately his phone chirped, and he opened it to a text from Kala. God, she was _literally_ a ray of sunshine in his life right now, even if she couldn't physically be here. Not yet, anyway.

The text was another in a series they'd started after his last nightmare. It had been hard on the both of them, being separated this much at a time like this. The first had been a bit of a joke, being able to see each other first thing in the morning, but it was comforting in its way. Even if they weren't together, it did make a difference to know that they were both a text away. _Morning, Red,_ Kala had sent, with a photo of herself. It was earlier in California, and she was still in bed, snuggled up all cute and drowsy-looking, her wavy hair all over the place. The duvet was tugged up to her chin, but what he could see of her shoulder implied that she'd slept topless.

Well, hell, so had he. Jay raked a hand through his hair until it looked a little less disheveled, and rolled over, snapping a couple photos before he found one that looked sleepy and sexy. He sent it to her with a smile on his face. _Morning to you too. Thinking about just staying in bed._

Imagining Kala laughing at him – or biting her lip looking at that picture, and what had she done to him that he was willingly and enthusiastically sending _lewds_ for God's sake – was better for his mental health than contemplating the same things that had kept him up late last night.

_Evil. Wish I was there. You'd mention that when I'm how far away?_ Her reply made him snicker, and then she sent another photo of herself. On her side this time, the duvet pulled down, but she'd tugged the pillow to her and wrapped her arm around it as if was him, snuggling her face against the fabric. She was _definitely_ topless, though nothing scandalous was on view; they never sent anything too racy, especially not with their faces in frame. It didn't matter, he knew the view very well. The message accompanying that shot was simply, _Is it the 25__th__ yet?_

The date was getting closer, and Jay knew she only had a couple more shows left. Some promotional stuff and business stuff for the label after, though. Another week before she was free. _Not yet, Princess. You have to wait for your present,_ he sent back. And then, laughing, he threw the covers back, sat up, and took a shot of the overhead view, making sure his boxers covered everything. _Wish you were *right here*,_ he sent with that one, knowing she'd know he meant in his lap.

_You are the worst kind of fucking tease,_ she sent back, and Jay laughed. A few minutes later, she sent him another photo, taken over her shoulder in the mirror. Her hair spilled down her back like a midnight waterfall, and she was looking over her shoulder with that wicked expression he knew so well.

She was only wearing a pair of panties, bright green with red trim, and 'Sleighin' It' written across her butt in large silver letters.

Jay stopped laughing; the damn joke panties had no right to be that damn sexy. Kala had never sent a photo with that much skin _and_ her eyes in the same shot. It was too risky, for a celebrity. _You win, you're the worst tease,_ he sent back, and added in a separate text, _Definitely gonna be late for breakfast now._ No photo, because there was no hiding what she did to him.

_Same,_ she replied, and he could _hear_ her sigh in his mind. _Goddammit, I miss you. Ready to be there already, _arrived at his phone a moment later.

_I miss you too,_ Jay sent her. _Counting the days, K._

_Counting the *hours*,_ she replied. _Not much longer now. I'm sorry it's been this long._

_Not your fault,_ he told her. _Gonna make sure I get you a present I know you'll like. And wrap it special for you. They make ribbed AND tingling now._

She sent him a string of cry-laughing emojis, and then, _Still can't top the present I have for you. Even if it's the same thing I got you for your birthday._

_Oh shit, are we re-gifting now? Are we that lame?_ Jay asked, and spent a few more minutes joking back and forth with her.

Still, that shot in the mirror … he took a little longer in the shower than he should've. It was supposed to be just a quick way to wake up before he stumbled down to breakfast.

When he got downstairs, things were suddenly very damn awkward, because _Kala's parents_ were in the great foyer with Bruce and Alfred. Of all the fucking times for them to arrive… Dick had dropped in, too, and he was positively beaming at Clark as usual. All of them were grouped together in a very festive scene, the evergreen boughs and red ribbons already up in the front of the house. He remembered then that the crew Alfred always had in to decorate the whole Manor were due to be in today and tomorrow, tasked with making the place holiday-perfect, God fucking help everyone.

Jay froze on the stairs at the thought, trying to decide if he should slink back to bed or just brazen it out, and knowing all along it was already too damn late. No one could sneak past a Kryptonian. Still, did he _have_ talk to them when he already knew which panties their daughter was wearing this morning?

Shit, was it like this for Kala whenever she had to deal with Bruce?

Dick and Bruce both noticed him at the same moment, and looked toward him expectantly. Jay sighed, knowing he was screwed, and made himself continue down the stairs. _Fuck_. "Hi. Merry Christmas, and all that."

"Merry Christmas," Clark said warmly, while Jay tried not to think about _sexting the man's daughter_ ten minutes ago. Knowing she was the biggest daddy's girl in the entire world didn't help either. That just made everything extra _super_ awkward, to make a Robin-worthy pun.

And his obnoxious-ass brother, the fuckin' Smiley Robin, was not helping matters. "Morning, Sleeping Beauty," Dick laughed. "Sorry, with everything going on we forgot to tell you, it's the annual Lane-Kent Gift Drop-Off. Two Saturdays before Christmas, every year. At least you woke up in time. Think you've been good enough to stay off Santa's naughty list this year?"

Jay just stared at him, as Lois failed to stifle her laughter. "Yeah, no, Santa doesn't stop at my place, Dickie-Bird. Not after the tripwire in the chimney incident."

That won him a round of chuckles from everyone, and Clark said gently, "I do hope you like your gift. Everyone kept telling me to get you ammunition."

He managed to look the man in the face then. _Hi, I'm totally out of my head about your favorite kid, and I just saw her next to naked, but let's pretend we don't all know about the first part of that._ "I'm sure it'll be fine. I'm having yours delivered." Which was a convenient way of dodging the fact that he hadn't even _thought_ about what to get Kala's parents. Or that he needed to get them gifts. Oh hell, did he have to buy stuff for her whole family? Most of whom he'd never met? Fuck, this was why he didn't _do_ relationships.

Lois cut him an arch look; she'd evidently caught on to him. No surprise, considering she _was_ the premier journalist among their set. And just as Jay met her gaze, he saw the same wicked grin and raised eyebrow that often presaged Kala's most deviant moments. He _knew_ she was going to say something terrible, and now he knew exactly where Kala's wry humor had come from.

Dropping a wink, Lois snarked, "That's funny,_ I _kept being told to get you condoms. Wonder why that is?" And no sooner were the words out of her mouth than she glanced toward Dick, who burst into full-on braying laughter. Clark, meanwhile, gasped out his wife's name in horrified disbelief.

And Jay couldn't stop himself. "Holy _fuck_! What the … don't _do_ that!"

Lois snickered at him. "Oh, stop it, Jason; it's not like we don't all _know_. Might as well get it out there and let everyone freaking _breathe_. Everything's fine. Both her parents know Kala's a grown woman, we're not gonna demand that Bruce _ground_ you or something."

"Lois," Clark muttered chidingly, and she turned jaded eyes on him. "Don't be cruel."

Jay almost laughed at the utterly exasperated look Lois shot her husband then. She heaved a sigh, rolling her eyes exactly as her daughter did. "No, cruel is dancing around it for another hour. Kal-El, a little birdie told me that Jay's been at least somewhat worrying for months that I'm gonna shoot him and you're gonna just snap him in half like a glowstick. Which is totally not the case. Let's get _over_ it, okay?"

"Aww, the Big Bad Red Hood actually worries about his girlfriend's parents disapproving," Dick chortled.

"Shut the fuck up," Jay hissed, and he was close enough to jab Dick in the ribs. "_You_ try dating someone whose dad can laser your dick off with a look!" Alfred chose that moment to clear his throat, and Jay winced, resolving to keep his swearing under a little better control. Even if his girlfriend's mom was dead set on making everyone around her uncomfortable while trying to alleviate the stress.

Meanwhile, Clark looked utterly confounded. And just as awkward as Jay was. "I promise you, the thought had never crossed my mind," he said earnestly.

Lois scoffed, her expression impish. "Yeah, now _Nick_ might've gotten shaken like a rat, but he was twenty when Kala was sixteen. You're fine, Jay. Neither of us intend to break you two up like that."

That sounded so weirdly high school; his normal response would've been something like, _I'll like to see you try_. But these _were _Kala's parents and it _was_ weird, and they'd never been around each other for more than five minutes since he and Kala had started … dating, let's call it dating. Never mind that both of them remembered him as a _kid_, and they both remembered his first run as Red Hood.

Lois' frankness startled some unexpected honesty out of Jay, too. "Except her brother."

Hazel eyes the same shade as Kala's narrowed, a flash of that aggravated expression again. "We're working on that. Jason is very overprotective. He's seen his sister almost die twice, and both times, she only survived because he was there. Don't worry, he won't come after you again."

"Not like I can blame him," Jay said with a shrug, utterly at a loss. Making polite holiday small talk just wasn't in his repertoire. Not like he'd ever been in anything close to this situation before. If he ever bumped into Rose's dad, he'd probably shoot Slade. Same for Ra's al Ghul, come to think of it – _someone_ needed to shoot that crusty sonofabitch. Donna didn't _have_ a dad, and he for damn sure wasn't gonna cross her sister. No way would he ever go to Themyscira and meet her mom, either.

"Don't worry, _I_ blame him," Lois said, startling Jay. "Seriously, though, when everyone was telling us to get ammo, they told me you shoot exclusively nine millimeters. I never figured you had some kind of cop fetish going on."

Jay snorted at that. "It's not a cop fetish. I use 'em for the same reason cops use 'em. Plenty of power, relatively cheap, and widely available."

She arched a silvered brow just like one of Kala's darker ones. He had almost forgotten how much she liked to push buttons. "Oh yeah? I guess cheap and easy matters when you're spraying lead like an extra in a bad movie. You know 357 magnum is the best man-stopping round, right? And revolvers never jam."

He crossed his arms and glowered at her. "Oh, what, you're packing a Colt or something? This isn't the Wild West anymore."

Lois just grinned insolently. "Ladysmith, actually. We're a Smith & Wesson family. I bet you're a Glock boy."

Jay was just figuring out why she'd chosen to needle him – she was using common interests to put him at ease and diffuse the awkwardness – when Clark leaned in. "Lois, only one person in this family actually carries a gun."

"And it's a Ladysmith, which makes us a Smith & Wesson family," she replied staunchly, smiling at Jay.

"I do carry Glocks, thank you," he said. "Helluva lot more tactical than your revolver, but I guess it's the best choice for you. Smaller hands and all."

Her eyes narrowed at him. Oh, yeah, he'd hit home with that one. "I know you're not dumb enough to say girls can't shoot, Mr. Todd, but I should warn you, they've never found the last guy who called me _short_." Both brows rose then, Lois glaring at him in warning. Her husband just cradled his head in his hands, and turned to Dick to let them have at it.

"Oh, I'm not dumb enough to say that, either, even if our own scrawny Timmy has an inch or two on you," Jay chuckled. It was weird to hear her call him _Mr. Todd_, when that was usually Kala's line, and the sarcastic cadence was exactly the same.

"You always were a smart kid," Lois replied, eyes sparkling and a smirk to that he remembered all too well.

"Made some damn dumb decisions, though," he replied lightly. "Thinking I could teach _your_ kid to shoot was one of 'em."

Lois chuckled at that. "You meant well. I can't blame anyone for trying to keep my little girl safe; God knows I try to do that, too. But you really should've thought about the fact that I have a permit to carry concealed, and I _use _it."

That rocked Jay back a little, and he looked more closely at her. Sure enough, her blazer was tailored just right – she could very well have a revolver on her. "Seriously, though. Did you really pack heat for a Christmas trip? With _him_?"

Some of the humor went out of her expression. "Luthor's always out there somewhere. And you never know when he'll have to save the world." Lois nodded in Clark's direction, deep in conversation with both Bruce and Dick. Her hazel eyes sparkled as she looked back at Jay shrewdly. "You're telling me you're not armed? It's not paranoia if they're really after you."

Jay laughed to hear the same saying he'd quoted before. "Look, I just woke up. I only brought two knives. My dad doesn't let us bring guns to the breakfast table."

Lois grinned at that,nodding. "I could see that around here. Sensible house rule. _My_ dad used to strip his sidearm at the table. Drove my mom nuts; well-bred families just didn't _do_ that. Her family ran in the same circles as Bruce's, y'know."

Cocking his head, Jay figured that made sense. Everyone heard about her father the general; having a blueblood mother just meant Lois Lane was comfortable in more places and circumstances, all that knowledge completely to her advantage in her line of work. And he suddenly understood why Kala knew how to waltz, and how much she liked dressing up for the upper-crust social events. "I'm having trouble picturing you dolled up for the debutante ball with a shoulder rig for the gun."

That earned him a delighted laugh. "Yeah, no, absolutely not my thing. My younger sister's the only one who would've been into the debutante thing. My dad made sure that didn't even occur to me. I'd rather go down to the range or find some other trouble to get into. Speaking of which, Mr. Cheap Anonymous Plastic Guns, I'll argue accuracy over volume with you at any range in town. Just say the word."

He gave her a skeptical look. "It's got, what, a three inch barrel at best? Get real, there's no accuracy on that. Now you wanna talk accurate revolvers, maybe a Colt Python…"

Lois sneered at that. "Oh, please. Pythons are for professional shooters and rich wannabes; they call them the Rolls-Royce of revolvers for a reason. They belong in a museum in this day and age. I drive a Mustang, not a Rolls, and I'm not target shooting with the damn thing. If Luthor's not close enough to hit with my Ladysmith, I'm not gonna be able to claim self-defense anyway."

Jay smirked a little. "Just don't stick around after you cap him."

She rolled her eyes, putting her index finger to her lips. "Hush, you. Not too loud. One of my best friends is a cop. If Luthor turns up dead in _Argentina_ she's gonna look at me first. Not to mention, there's _him_ and his idea of right and wrong on the topic." She indicated Clark with a grumpy nod.

Jay almost laughed at that. Yep, she might have gotten older, but Lois Lane had gotten no less fierce in the meantime. "That sucks," Jay admitted, and then looked at her shrewdly. "You have a Mustang? I see where the speed junkie genes come from."

Lois just smiled happily. "Fiftieth birthday present. The car's my age, and restored to mint condition. Kala mentioned you have a Charger, right?"

Clark cut in then to say, "You are _not_ going drag racing. Not in that car, not against Jason Todd, not at _all_. I will pick you _and_ the car up and put it on a roof somewhere." Lois just flashed him a grin full of vivacious mischief. He tried to scowl, but his eyes were too full of adoration.

Jay had to snicker there; in that one exchange, he saw _exactly_ how the two of them combined to make his girl, and why their marriage was the envy of the entire JLA. Lois looked back at him, and their eyes met with total understanding. She, at least, fully approved.

"Are you _always_ like this?" Jay asked, tilting his head to the side.

That had her chuckling, the blinding grin Lois shot him a spot-on match for his girl's. "To everyone's despair, yes. My daughter comes by it honestly."

Jay couldn't help laughing out loud at that.


	22. Still These Shapes Fill My Head

Lucy Southard sat on her big sister's bed, listening to their parents argue. Apparently seeing their Aunt Harleen was a bigger deal than either girl had yet realized – but Rachel pretended she'd known this would happen. She pretended to know a lot of things. Chiraj at school said his big brother was the same way, so apparently it was just a big-sibling thing, having to be know-it-alls.

"So you hung out with your sister – the psycho, the murderer, the one you always told me you wanted _nothing to do with_ – you hung out with her just like, a normal walk in the park, oh sure visit your nieces, not like there's a statewide _manhunt_ on for her or anything," Daddy was saying. Lucy could hear him pacing back and forth. "And she brings Christmas presents for the girls, like this is normal. Oh yeah, and she brings _Catwoman_ with her, too. Sure, why not, who's next? Just invite every nutjob crook in Gotham over for dinner. It'll be educational."

"David, stop," Mommy said, and her voice was tired. "They have a point. If he's hunting her, and can't find her, sooner or later he could come for us. We need to get out. The firm will give you leave."

"Permanent leave, when they find out my goddamn sister-in-law is _Harley Fucking Quinn_!" Daddy snapped, and Lucy's mouth dropped open. She'd _never_ heard her father swear like that.

Rachel, beside her, gritted her teeth. "I didn't know she was _that_ Harley," she whispered.

"What Harley?" Lucy asked. She'd heard the other woman call her aunt that, but not the last name. And that _couldn't_ be a middle name, nobody had curse words in their name. It was probably illegal.

Rachel shook her head. "You're too little to watch the news."

"So are you!" Lucy shot back, indignant.

"David, would you _please_ stop the histrionics?" Mommy said sharply. "I'm not risking the girls. We have to _go_. And there are worse things than spending a month in the Bahamas in some billionaire's spare condo."

Daddy laughed, but he didn't sound happy. "Oh yeah, a month. That'll be perfect. Here's a thought, that madman won't come after us unless he can't find her. Why didn't you just turn her in? You knew where she was going to be, and the cops are already patrolling."

Silence, for a few seconds, and Lucy leaned toward the door, listening. Her mother's voice had gone low and furious, as the girls had never heard it aimed at them. "She is my _sister_. If I'd turned her in, he'd know right where to find her, and this is not a game, David. You have no idea what he'd do if he caught her."

"I don't care about her," Daddy said coldly. "I only care about you, and those two girls. She made her own choices."

"She did. And she regrets them. But David, no matter what you think of her, we're in it now no matter what we do. If I'd turned her in and he learned she was caught in Brooklyn, don't you think he'd wonder why? She's tougher than anyone I know, she might not tell him, but he might still come looking to see what was so important to her. And we both know what he'd see."

Lucy frowned, and looked at Rachel. "What? Who are they talking about?"

"Hush," Rachel said, slipping an arm around her and hugging her tight.

"I don't understand," Lucy complained.

Downstairs, Daddy said the really bad word again, and then with an air of defeat he said, "Fine. Fine, I'll call the firm, we'll go. _You_ call freaking Catwoman and tell her to set it up. Jesus Christ, what a mess."

"What's it mean?" Lucy asked her sister, aware that she'd probably get yelled at for pestering.

Instead Rachel just squeezed her close. "It means we're prob'ly going to the beach," she said. "Like a _real_ beach, where it's warm and stuff."

And just as her older and slightly wiser sister suspected, that thought completely distracted Lucy from everything their parents _hadn't_ said.

…

Kala had known she'd have to make this call, it had been inevitable, but she'd been finding every excuse in the world to avoid it. Dreading it on so many levels. But it was already the second week of December and making the final plans for her family's Christmas chaos were closing in. She'd wanted to give it more time, to not upset anything until she had to, but Lana had called last night to make sure she had the dates right, and Kala realized that she couldn't put it off any longer.

And just a text wasn't going to cut it, not after all this time. There had been no direct contact since he'd called her that night at Jay's; it had been almost a month since they'd spoken. She had to do this, no matter what happened. Kala owed him an actual call. After a morning spent on the promotional stuff she loathed – signing merch for fans was wonderful, signing it for auctions or giveaways was decidedly less so – she headed back to the hotel, flopped down on the bed, and studied her phone as if it might offer her a way out of her current predicament. For the hundredth time, she lost her nerve. Who knew, she might get lucky. Oracle might call her in. Or maybe Lex Luthor would figure out how to collapse the entire western coast of California into the sea, and she'd be too busy rescuing people to make this call.

The thought of the ocean chilled her. The Pacific was green and warm and picturesque, as she'd seen it from various hotel rooms in California, but Kala had no desire to go any closer to it than that. Or any other sea, really. Falling from the sky toward the sea was different, somehow; air was her element, she was fearless and powerful in flight. Dunked into the sea, with that salt-smell in her nose and stinging her eyes, she would panic.

And the thought of the sea was enough to make the phone call a tiny bit less nauseating by comparison. Taking a deep breath, Kala speed-dialed the familiar number – she'd never reprogrammed her number shortcuts – and listened to it ring. Once, twice, three times.

Kala dropped her head back, feeling like a coward as she closed her eyes with a sigh. She shouldn't be surprised, really; he could see who was calling, and might not answer. That might be for the best. She could just leave a message and…

The line connected, and Kala barely had time to brace herself before she heard his voice. "Hey, Kala."

She took another deep breath, and let it out shakily. After all this time, she was so used to him calling her 'mi Kala' - _my_ Kala – that the absence of one syllable sounded like he'd gotten her name wrong. All she answered was, "Hey, Sebast."

Silence between them, growing heavier by the second, neither knowing what to say or where they stood. Sebast sighed, too, and finally said, "So I was in the basement the other day, and I found this bricked-up section with a big-ass bottle of cognac in it. Do you have another secret identity that's even more Goth, or do I need to look into the previous owners?"

Bless him for throwing her a life-raft to grab there. She laughed, catching the reference, and some of the nausea passed. "Yeah, no, not me. Wasn't the last family named Poe or something? Could've been them." On the whole, she thought she sounded good, not anywhere near as emotional as she felt.

"Never buy a house from a man named Eddie, that's my new motto," Sebast said. "Speaking of the house, I guess that's why you're calling, right?"

And here they were and she wasn't sure if she was relieved or saddened by it. "Honestly, yeah, part of why," Kala said, and only years of training kept her voice from trembling.

"Three weeks in Ponce, this year," he said. "I've got a cousin getting married and another with a baby on the way, so mis padres are making all kinds of plans. I was gonna call you this weekend, after we buy plane tickets, and give you the dates, 'cause I figured you'd want to come home for Christmas."

Again, that mismatched feeling: a part of her was grateful that he would be away for the season, making it impossible for them to hurt one another, and the other part more than a little hurt to not know which of his family was having these events. Hurt that, for the first time in years, she wouldn't be a part of the festivities, wouldn't be leaving with him to spend the week before Christmas in Puerto Rico. She'd been all right as long as she wasn't thinking about it. With that, she realized again just how far apart they had drifted since even the beginning of the year. "Yeah, but I know it's earlier than we usually do," Kala sighed. "Thank you, Sebast. I … I didn't want you to think I was going to try to kick you out for the week. No matter what else is going on, until we make some kind of decisions, it belongs to the both of us."

What he said next surprised her a little. "Yeah, it does. And it's gonna stay our house. We're gonna fix this, Kala." A pause, and in a softer voice he said, "Assuming you still want to fix it…?"

That was enough to make her want to burst into tears. Of all the ways she had seen it possible for this to go, Sebast being willing to forgive her hadn't been one of them. Kala didn't know how she'd feel if the shoe were on the other foot; likely, she would have been much less kind. But she jumped at the chance he was giving her. "_Yes,_" she told him, and reined in the emphatic tone just a little. "God, Sebast, of course I want to fix it. I never wanted to screw it up in the first place! Sebast, I _miss_ you. I never wanted you to _leave_ leave. I just wanted you to leave the room at that moment. I was afraid…" She trailed off, not wanting to name what had frightened her the most: that momentary wrathful urge to toss _him_ off the balcony. It had only been an instant, never something she'd seriously consider doing, no matter _how_ provoked, but Kala feared her temper. And she was entirely too aware that she _could_ bodily throw a grown man off a balcony, without even using her martial arts training.

"I know. I've started to understand a lot more, lately. And … I miss you, too, Kala," Sebast said.

It had been more than she had let herself hope for. The relief was almost painful. She bit her lip, _hard_, not to sob into the phone. No, she hadn't been prepared for this, but would she ever have been? Running a head through her hair, Kala took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. "Listen, Sebast. Do you think… Do you want to come back to the band?"

He laughed, and for a heart-stopping second Kala thought she'd asked too soon, too bluntly. But then Sebast said warmly, "Do I want to come back to the band? Mira, does my brother want the last churro every time Mami makes them? Fucking _of course_ I want to come back to the band! The question is, do _you_ want me back in the band?"

The world seemed to steady more than it had been since Denver, the askew angle leveling out. What a ridiculous question; would he ever know how ridiculous? Kala gave a reassured laugh, her voice shaky, but hope was blooming in her chest. "Hell yes I do, Sebast, I've been missing you like crazy. No one else matches my voice or my rhythm like you do. I'd never try to keep you out, no matter what was going on. I don't care whose initials are on the merch, this is _our_ band. _Ours_. Yours and mine, the way it's always been."

"Good," he said. "I miss your voice, too. My family sing like drunk chipmunks. I miss doing impressions of Meatloaf songs with you."

Oh, that was a classic. Just the mention had Kala laughing again, remembering the one vodka-inspired rendition wherein she'd sung the male lines, and Sebast had produced a terrifying falsetto to match. It had been the last time Kala had let him even look at _any _whipped cream-flavored liquor. "Not going to lie, I miss all of it," Kala admitted, pulling her knees to her chin. She suddenly felt so damn lonely, wanting him here so she could drop her head on his shoulder. But that was something of the problem, wasn't it? "But Sebast … we have to be more careful."

"Yeah, I was thinking about that. It's going to be interesting, that's for sure. We need … boundaries, I guess. Which is weird to say, when we've gone and gotten Brazilians together. Whatever it takes, Kala, we'll figure it out." Sebast sighed, and she could hear him opening the refrigerator, a clink of glass bottles, then the subtle pop of a cap. One of the mango sodas he'd brought home from Ponce last year, she thought, and suddenly Kala could see their kitchen as if it were right in front of her. A powerful wave of homesickness swept over her.

Pushing that aside, she focused on the present. "Good. Because the label hauled me in and tried to pull some shit. I backed them off, but if you don't call them and start making plans, they're going to try and cut you out." Kala couldn't help the bitterness in her voice.

"Yeah, I'll unblock Jenna's number. It has to be after the holidays, but we'll work something out." Sebast scoffed. "Watch these bloodsucking sons of bitches try to make a PR stunt out of it."

"You know they will. And you know I won't let them." Another pause, warmer this time, but the inevitable loomed ahead of them. The conversation so far had felt almost back to normal, despite its gaps and all the things that remained unsaid. What she had to say next might implode that.

Kala closed her eyes, and told him, "Sebast … I have to tell you … you know I'm still with him."

The reply broke her heart as much as having made the statement in the first place. "I know. I also know you're not with me, and you never really were." His stark tone left both of them silent for a long moment, Kala blinking away tears.

She took a deep breath, again fighting to steady her voice. "And let's be real, Sebast, we both know it's more complicated than that, and that just saying it like that is a lie for both of us, and that's part of why we need to talk. But not right now. Not like this. It just … it wouldn't have been fair to you if I hadn't said something."

"I know. And I don't wanna talk about him, but hell – I want you to be happy. Looks like he makes you happy." Sebast's voice was bleak, though she could tell he was trying not to sound that way.

God, what a way to over-simplify things, as if only one thing could. "Sebast, you make me happy, too. Don't ever think that's not been the case. I was _always_ happy with you. Being happy with each other is not what's up for debate here," Kala said, her voice shaking a little.

"No, what's up for debate is where we draw the line. Don't worry, Kala, I'm not gonna pull some stupid friend-zoned bullshit on you," Sebast reassured.

Why did hearing all of this hurt so much, when he was trying to reassure her? She knew, she knew she did, but this wasn't the time. It could wait. It would wait. "You act like I don't know you at all. That's not who you are," she replied, her voice hushed.

"Mi Kala, _I_ don't know me lately. Hell, the mighty Queerfinder – he who can hook up in rural Arkansas – is all hung up over a girl? I'm only consoling myself because the girl is literally out of this world." That choice of words choked her up a little, since Jay had said much the same thing. Sebast continued, "The point is, I'm not gonna try to step on that. I don't give a fuck who he is – I pretty much know, by the way – but I'm not gonna put _you_ in that position. No telenovela bullshit for us."

"Sebast, I'm more worried about hurting you with any of this," Kala insisted. "The last thing I'm worried about is you trying to pull something; it's not how either of us operates. I just don't want to somehow screw up somehow and hurt you _again_." It seemed surreal just to say that. She'd kept quiet about her feelings for him for so long, and now he was the one who wanted what he couldn't have.

Her plaintive reply to Jason echoed in Kala's mind, making her shiver. _I want both … They both know me like no one else – but different sides of me. I need them both like I need both sides of who I am. _It was so fucking selfish and she knew it, but she couldn't help it. Kala didn't want to lose either of them.

"Don't worry about hurting me, chula, I think I hurt you enough you're owed some payback," Sebast said. "It's gonna hurt, figuring this shit out. But it'll hurt less than walking away. Besides, now that I know, I can _help_ you."

Her heart clenched at that, her hand going to her mouth in amazement; Kala didn't feel like she deserved that, after keeping her secret from him for eight whole years. Eight years while they shared everything, even a bed. "Sebast, I can't ask that of you."

"You're not asking, I'm offering," he countered. "C'mon, Kala, it'll be a lot easier to sneak out and save the world when I can cover your ass."

She let out a shaky laugh, the thought throwing her for a moment. Again, surreal. There had been times in their lives together when she had wanted that, the ability to just tell him exactly what was wrong, but to have Sebast offer that, like he had shared so much else with her? As much as she longed for it, there was a reason she never had. "Oh, Sebast, you don't know what you're letting yourself into. No, querido, I don't want you in this mess. And it _is_ a mess."

"Shit, how bad can it be?" he shot back.

Might as well give him a taste of the insanity he was flirting with. Considering, Kala gave him the first example that came to mind. "Not that long ago I had to change in front of the band, and explain why I was bruised all to hell. I _told_ them it was sparring, and they wanted to kick Jay's ass – which, yeah, nobody without a whole lot of training can even touch him. If I told them the truth, they'd lose their goddamn minds."

"What was the truth?" Sebast asked.

She laughed again, a manic edge to it. He was going to love the answer. "I got hit by a car."

"_Fuck!_"

"Yeah. That. You should see the kinda shit I've had to heal before I've come home. Sometimes it's an hour hanging over the Pacific, just getting sunned up enough to be presentable." Kala sighed, and decided to indulge a little. She found her cloves and lit one up, the sweet rough smoke soothing her nerves.

"Shit, if getting hit by a car is on the low end of the scale…" Sebast said thoughtfully.

"Dealing with my regular shit is hard enough. _This_ stuff…" Kala trailed off, and took inventory. "Since the summer, I've been knifed, shot at, gotten my ribs kicked in, been bashed over the head with a police baton, got kissed by Poison Ivy and chewed on by Harley Quinn's hyenas, and got a lungful of fear toxin from Scarecrow. The car crash only left bruises, and I've had more of those than I can remember. My new suit's armored, but I have to be able to _move_, so it can't guard against everything. And I'm not quite as invulnerable as Jase. I probably won't die, but I get hurt." She didn't mention that some of those injuries had come from Jay himself, when he was still trying to convince her to leave the city. And she left her encounter with Joker completely off the list.

Sebast swore, in Spanish he'd never taught her, and then said, "I'm sorry, I'm still stuck on those three big names in a row. Madre de Dios, they took the training wheels off real quick, huh? Elise told me the Bats had all the scary bad guys, but damn, I would've thought they'd let you work up to it."

A laugh forced its way up her throat, but it sounded more like a sob, and Kala cut it off quickly. "Would have been nice, but not how it works in Gotham. Work your way up was never really an option. Sebast, considering what I am, I'm too _useful_ for that. Hell, the minute they got me trained up, we went out to bust Black Mask's human chop shop. As in, kidnapping homeless kids and selling their organs to the highest bidder. I have seen things … _fuck_, there's a reason I don't want you around this." She felt tears forming, and scrubbed at her eyes angrily. The _one_ part of her life where she could be normal was falling apart around her.

"Hey, mamita, I don't wanna be _around_ it. All that shit you just read off like your grocery list? No way in hell am I gonna put on some tights and try to play sidekick. But I can _help you_. If nothing else, I can run interference with the boys while you're out solar-charging. And feed you ice cream and hold your hand when you've seen too much." Sebast's voice was steady, earnest, serious, and Kala yearned for the support he was offering.

In the end, she reached out, admitting what she knew was true. "I … I need that, Sebast. I need to keep a toehold in humanity."

"Yeah, Elise said that, too," he replied.

That made Kala pause, sitting up a little more in surprise. Only then did she realize he'd mentioned Elise twice. "Wait, when did you talk to Elise?"

"Right after I talked to you, when I was still majorly pissed. Full disclosure, I had a lunch date with your mom the other week, too. Between the two of them they gave me the lowdown on how to deal with this whole situation. Well, Elise pretty much ripped me a new asshole along the way, but I kinda deserved it." He sounded awfully self-deprecating, almost humble, and that wasn't like him. Her sense of unreality just deepened.

"No, you didn't," Kala protested. "You didn't deserve any of this."

Sebast countered, "Neither did you. You were just born with the skills, and had to use 'em. How can you not, when you know people need you? But damn, Kala, you gotta keep yourself in one piece and right in the head. Fuck, I'm trying to figure out how you did it for so long."

The answer to that was more simple that Sebast could guess and she found herself giving it without hesitation. "I had you," Kala murmured.

"You've still got me," Sebast answered.

And just as quickly, that became dangerous territory, and Kala tried to steer the conversation away from it. "Besides, 'right in the head' is up for debate."

"Well yeah, making a tour of the Gotham rogues' gallery during a _concert_ tour isn't something any truly sane person would do." Sebast joked back.

Kala made a face at that, dropping backward against the pillows to stare at the ceiling. "Tip of the Iceberg. No pun intended," she replied, closing her eyes against the ease and still-strange honesty. Just having it _out there_ was disorientating after all this time.

He chuckled, more easily than before. "Also, chewed on by _hyenas_? Ew. Why can't you go scrap with Catwoman? At least you like cats."

That got a genuine snort of amusement from Kala. "Oh, Catwoman's fine, she works with Bats sometimes. I actually like her. So does Mom, as a matter of fact. But I bet she didn't steal Mom's shoelace while talking to her. Nothing is safe around her unless it's nailed down – and I wouldn't put it past her to steal the nails." Kala smiled fondly, thinking of Selina.

"Jesus, she sounds like a god-tier thief the same way Oracle is a god-tier hacker," Sebast said, impressed.

Her dark brow furrowed at that. Now, wait just a damn minute… "You talked to Oracle, too?" Kala sat up at that, stung. Had _everyone_ spoken to him before her? Next thing she knew, he'd be texting _Jay_.

She could almost hear him shaking his head. "Nah, Elise warned me my phone and laptop were being monitored, and I was surprised enough at that _before_ the surprise guest voice popped up on the line. I guess it's a good thing the scary-smart people are on your side. She talked to me, more than anything, but hell. It's not like I'd go tell _Capespotting_ or something."

"I never thought you'd do that," Kala hastened to explain. "But we have to account for the possibility anyway. People's lives are at stake. The minute one of the villains gets a clue who everyone is, they won't come for _us_. They'll come for our families. Mom would love another chance to shoot Luthor, but I can't risk Kristin. Or you."

"Yeah, well, I really don't want to get kidnapped. It's bad for my complexion," Sebast replied flippantly.

The retort took her by surprise, startling a ringing laugh from her, and the words _I love you_ were on the tip of her tongue – that was so very Sebast, and her heart ached with missing him. But she couldn't say that, not now, not when it might mislead him.

Why was it so easy to say to Sebast, and so hard to say to Jay?

Sebast would say it back immediately, and mean it. The _how_ of it was still up for debate, and that was treading across thin ice to bring that up now. Jay … Jay would implode. He damn near had a legitimate phobia of love. Kala remembered thinking it, falling asleep in his arms, but she was completely unaware that she'd spoken the words aloud.

Instead, Kala just said, "I miss you, Sebast. So much."

"I miss you, too, mi vida," Sebast said, the endearment slipping out. He seemed to catch himself, neither of them calling attention to it, and said in a much lighter tone, "We'll get this figured out. And I'll call Jenna and take my beating. I'll text you when I know the exact date I'm leaving for Ponce, okay?"

"Yeah, we will," Kala said. She smiled, remembering the last time she'd left him alone for a week, and added, "Make sure you vacuum before you leave, you fucking heathen."

"Just for that I'm gonna leave shrimp in the fridge," he shot back, and both of them laughed.

…

Donna took a deep breath and steeled herself for whatever reception awaited her at Wayne Manor. Oh, Dick would be glad to see her – he'd invited her, after all – and Alfred would be as courteously welcoming as ever. Tim would be fine, and Bruce would be distant and preoccupied as usual.

It was Jay she worried about, Jay who was finally back home for the first time since he'd … well, since he'd almost died. Jay whom she'd argued with over the phone last month for the first time in over a year, and not spoken to since. Jay whom she _knew_ didn't handle awkwardness well, he'd crack a joke or try to piss her off rather than deal with being in the same room as her. Jay had never coped with emotional stuff well, not even as a kid, not even when anyone who knew him at all quickly realized he was driven by emotion. He deflected as much as possible, and Donna knew that since she was one of people who _did_ know him a little better than most, he'd be on guard against her. One of his sayings came back to her, _The best defense is a good offense_, and Jay could occasionally be _extremely_ offensive.

So when Alfred opened the door, she was on her guard, determined not to let Jay rattle her or infuriate her. Donna straightened her spine, as if she wore a sword down her back, and smiled back at the butler. "You are _most_ welcome, Miss Donna," Alfred said.

"I'm very glad to be here, and to see you again," she said, impulsively taking his hand. Rather than shake, he clasped hers in both of his, his blue eyes twinkling.

Any further formalities were halted by a cry of "_Donna!_" and the sound of small running feet. Of all the receptions the Amazon anticipated, this hadn't been one – but it was the most welcome surprise imaginable.

Alfred stepped adroitly aside, and Donna moved in, dropping to one knee. "Lian! Sweetheart, I missed you!" The nine-year-old launched into her arms, hugging her fiercely, and Donna placed a noisy smooch against her hair that made her giggle.

"I missed you too," Lian said eagerly, wrapping her arms around Donna's neck in an eager squeeze. "Daddy said you were comin', so I waited."

Donna picked her up easily, balancing Lian on her hip, and looked at her thoughtfully. "You've grown up since I last saw you," she said, in a playful tone that made Lian giggle. "If you keep on growing, you're gonna be as tall as me next time!"

"Nuh-uh!" Lian laughed, and Donna's heart gave a fierce clench. The weight of this little girl in her arms, the bright intelligence in her gaze, the trusting way she let Donna hold her, all ached in her chest. If only she could've been arranging playdates for Lian and Robert… _No, let it go, don't dwell on what might've been._

"It's all that Miracle-Gro I feed her," Roy said from the hall. Donna looked up and met his gaze, her expression softening.

Roy Harper had been through a _lot_, and it showed in his green eyes. Donna remembered him as a teenager – Speedy had definitely been a good moniker. All eagerness and hunger, seeking the next test of his skill, trying to prove himself. Perhaps more than any of them, he wanted to be a _hero_. His father, his first mentor, and then his partner Green Arrow had all been larger than life in young Roy's eyes, and he had told her once he felt himself scrambling to catch up with their legends. Meanwhile he was always so prepared, so competent, that some of the other Teen Titans felt a little shabby. Roy disabused them of that quickly; he was never pretentious or arrogant with them.

She and Roy had dated for a while back then – puppy love, nothing more. They were _kids_, even if they kept getting wrapped up in things that could save the world or end it. That kind of Titans drama had led them all to think they were grownups when really, they were just teenagers, with powers and skills that had aged them too soon. It had been sweet, with Roy, and if nothing else had ever passed between them, she'd still think of him fondly.

But other events had happened. The original Teen Titans broke up, they'd all drifted apart, and Roy had fallen in with a bad crowd. Donna had tried to keep in touch, but he'd rejected everyone for a while. And then Oliver Queen found out he was using drugs, and not knowing how to handle that, just threw him out.

Roy had eventually gotten clean with help from Dinah Lance, who was probably the reason he'd come to Gotham. And he'd rebuilt his life. There were more complications, of course – he'd been sent to capture Cheshire, not fall in love with her, and Lian was the result of that affair. Donna had met her when Roy tried to re-form the Titans, and she and Roy had dated again for a while. It was nice, being a mother figure to someone. Perhaps that was when she'd started yearning for a normal life, a husband and a baby.

But Donna couldn't have that with Roy. She did care for him, she did love him, but something always seemed to get in the way. It never ended _badly_, they just couldn't seem to find the time for a relationship. At least, not with each other. And of course, there was that stupid prophecy, words that turned her heart to ice when she looked at Roy pushing Lian on the swings. Even now, she shivered to remember Omen's blank eyes, her voice sounding as if it came from the bottom of a well, saying _Donna Troy's red-haired husband shall die._ As close as she and Roy had always been, it certainly seemed aimed at him, and Donna had always shied away from getting too serious. There were complications on her end, too. One of which was under this same roof.

Donna knew who the prophecy meant, now – she hadn't even thought of it when she met Terry, who'd been dyeing his hair to hide the first grays. But she was _not_ going to get maudlin today. Not when she had the pleasure of Roy's company, and Lian's. She could enjoy them both for who they were, not merely as stand-ins for her ghosts.

Now Roy was a mentor to others, and still working as Arsenal. He'd grown up – they all had – and the expression in his green eyes was a little more world-weary. Roy still had his sense of humor, though, and Donna stepped forward to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Good to see you, too, Roy."

He slipped an arm around her waist and hugged her; they'd been through too much to be shy of each other now. "Right back at you, Donna. And I know the kiddo's happy, too." Lian beamed at him.

"How's everyone?" she asked, as Alfred nodded them toward the parlor.

"Pretty good," Roy said, reaching for Lian. She went into her father's arms gladly; he'd had sole custody since she was just over a year old. Donna couldn't imagine trying to do what Roy was doing. He never spoke ill of Cheshire to Lian, despite the fact that she was an _assassin_. And he let his ex see their child as much as possible. Roy insisted stoutly that they'd been in love, and that he still cared for her. Everything else, including the whole assassin and hero conflict, came secondary to their daughter's safety and happiness.

Donna also knew that Lian was a source of strength for Roy. Addiction was never really cured, he'd told her, only staved off each new day as the recovering addict chose a better path. It'd be too easy to fall again … except he looked into Lian's eyes, and wanted to be a good dad. A good example.

She ran a gentle hand through Lian's hair, tugging lightly at its silky length to make the little girl giggle. And then Roy fixed her with a serious gaze. "Donna, you should know – Jay's here. And he's invited Kala. She hasn't turned up yet, but…"

Letting out a sigh that seemed to come all the way from her toes, Donna said, "I expected as much. And I have something for her, too." Might as well get _that_ drama over with, too.

…

Bruce wasn't in the house to meet Donna. He'd gone down into the Cave and was on the computer running some leads about Joker's activities. Currently coming up with nothing, but if he got enough data points he'd be able to predict the next attack.

From the trophy room, he heard Selina's voice. "Jesus _Christ_, Bruce! What the _fuck_ is this?"

Why exactly did he happen to fall in love with women who could, and _would_, trespass on his most heavily-guarded secrets?

Sighing, he got up to find her, and discovered her in a back corner of the trophy room, staring intently at a statue. She didn't look around at his arrival, which he could've sworn was silent, but spoke to him anyway. "Seriously, I see why it's hidden in a corner. This is the ugliest damn thing I've ever seen. Bruce, what the hell? What _is_ this? Other than _hideous_."

He stopped at her side, regarding the statue. Aesthetically, yes, it was unattractive. That was by design; the image was meant to evoke terror and disgust. The face was that of a vampire bat, with upturned nose, glaring eyes, fangs jutting from the open mouth, the tongue lolling down to the chest. It spread its clawed wings, and clutched a writhing human figure in one foot, a blade in the other. The earrings and the elaborate headdress identified both its culture, and its status.

"It's a pre-Columbian sculpture of the Mayan god Camazotz," Bruce told her. "The best known mythology is found in the Popul Vuh. He's described in various sources as a god of the night, death, and sacrifice."

Selina nodded slowly. "Okay. I see the logic. But Bruce … you know you're not Mayan, right? Not by any stretch of the imagination. Hell, maybe some Mayan trader with a bad sense of direction wound up in _my_ family tree, but yours? Not likely."

He smiled tightly. Of course not. It wasn't about a spiritual connection, or anything religious. The statue had simply spoken to him, directly in the deepest part of his brain where all the oldest atavistic fears lived. It had horrified and fascinated him, so he bought it and gave it a place in his trophy room. Not a well-lighted alcove with a plaque describing its provenance, either. If there was such a god as Camazotz, perhaps he would appreciate a shadowy corner in which to lurk.

"I mean, I can't throw shade on cultural appropriation," Selina continued philosophically. "At least I've got Bastet, who even in her furry aspect is still at least good-looking. This guy … come on. You want gods of death, the Egyptian pantheon can hook you up. I'd recommend Osiris, you just need a beard and some green paint. Anubis could work, you'd just have to make the ears on the cowl a lot longer and give yourself a snout, but then I'd have to break up with you. I can't deal with a dog person."

"Selina," he chided gently.

"All right, all right, it has to be a bat. Aren't there any less-horrific bat gods out there? C'mon, those flying foxes they have in Australia are seriously cute. You ever see video of those? They waggle their ears when you feed them."

"_Selina_." Bruce gave her a warning look.

She folded her arms and eyed the statue of Camazotz irreverently. Selina was the living embodiment of the old adage, _A cat can look at a king_. Nothing so feline as she could ever be made to feel humbled by the presence of any man or god.

Then Selina turned to him, and her expression was serious. "I did have a reason to come see you."

"Is it about Harley Quinn?" he asked.

Her expression froze, and then she scowled. "I _hate_ it when you do that. Yes, it's about Harley. And I know you're gonna be mad, but there are good people involved, kids included, who need your help. So can we just table all the yelling and 'I'm so disappointed in you' nonsense for a later date? Maybe the fifth of Never?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose, struggling with the urge to simply order her out. He could not conscience helping Harley or Ivy while they remained free; that wasn't justice. At the same time, Selina knew exactly how to win his cooperation. She'd mentioned children. "What do you need?"

"Top-secret transport and housing for a family of four," Selina replied quickly. "Bruce, did you know Harley has a sister?"

Bruce glared. "I do. She's married, she never uses her maiden name. I was under the impression she cut all ties with Harley."

Selina looked chagrined. "How hard do you think it would be for Joker to find them?"

"Has he made any threats? This is an entire family, Selina." The logistics involved in moving them would be extremely difficult, assuming they would even agree to go.

"Not yet, but if he can't find Harley, he's going to look for ways to flush her out. And I don't want them hurt. They seem like good people." Selina looked more uncomfortable the longer she spoke.

Bruce just glowered at her, putting the pieces together. "You went with Harley to Brooklyn. Knowing the risks. Knowing that if Joker followed her, you'd lead him right to them."

She hunched her shoulders. "Hey, we knew he wasn't trailing us. Give me more credit for being subtle. Look, Bruce, Harley's my friend. So is Ivy. You _know_ they're important to me. I've been trying to get Harley to leave Gotham since she put Joker in the hospital. He'll kill her if he catches her, and it'll be something horrible that gives everyone in town nightmares. He's _got_ to go over the top, or everyone will think he's lost his edge. I even gave her my share of the bank job to help her get out quicker. But she wouldn't go until she saw Delia. I had to help."

"Why won't she leave?" he asked. And never mind that she'd openly admitted to robbing the bank, again. It was easier for him to ignore her nonviolent crimes if she didn't _talk_ about them.

Selina bit her lip. "Dammit, Bruce … I can't tell you. If you met them, you'd understand. They need help. The cops aren't enough, they need our kind of help. If I had a villa in Greece or something, I'd send them there until Joker's back in Arkham."

He looked at her a long moment, then turned away, walking back to the computer. Selina trailed him, saying nothing. _If you met them_ was the best clue he was going to get, and he wanted to know what was so important about her sister's family that Harley wouldn't run, when she had to know she was in danger every moment she stayed in Gotham.

Bruce ran a search through the extensive databases he had access to, calling up all the information he could find on Delia Southard's family. Nothing he glanced at seemed important, so he pulled up more files, delving into their social media.

The first page of photos showed the entire family at a dance recital for the older girl. Bruce's eyes passed over them … then darted back. He looked longer at the younger girl, who appeared to be about six.

Selina shivered silently beside him as he pulled up another search, eventually locating a photograph of a young Harleen Quinzel. She was eight in the one he found, going to the regional science fair, but he quickly cropped both images and compared them side by side.

Lucy Southard had the same jawline, the same cheekbones, the same blonde hair, the same smile, as Harleen Quinzel. There was a definite resemblance between Harley and Delia, but not _this_ much of one. "No," Bruce whispered.

"Yeah," Selina whispered back. "Three guesses who her daddy is, and you won't need the first two."

Bruce whirled on her, anger mounting in his chest. This child should have been protected all her life, someone should have been watching out for her. If Joker had the slightest hint… "How long have you known?"

"About a day," Selina replied, her gaze sharpening. "Harley's _smart_, Bruce. No one here knows, except Pam. Even the birth certificate shows her as Delia's, and it's the original. Harley checked into the hospital under Delia's name. She did everything she could to keep the girl safe. But if Joker goes looking for Harley's sister and sees that little girl with his eyes … I don't even want to _imagine_ what he'll do."

Bruce scowled, but she met his gaze steadily. Selina couldn't have known, he decided. If she had, she would've told him sooner – she wouldn't turn a blind eye to a child at risk.

Neither would he. "I have a condo in the Bahamas," he finally said.

"They'll need Bat-surveillance on the way there," Selina pointed out.

He nodded, thoughtful. "And just how do you plan on explaining Batman owning vacation property in the Caribbean?"

Selina chuckled at that. "Oh, that's easy. I'll tell them the same thing I tell the masks here in town: that I'm dating Batman _and_ Bruce Wayne. Delia already heard me tell Harley I'm going to ask both my boyfriends for help." She smiled mischievously at him.

Bruce just closed his eyes with a sigh. "Selina…"

"Look, I gave Delia my real first name so she'd talk to me. That's how serious I am. I never ignore a hunch, Bruce, and my gut tells me these people need to get out of the area _yesterday_." She looked at him seriously, and though he put more faith in logic and deduction than in intuitive hunches, he wouldn't gainsay Selina. Not when a child's life was at stake.

"All right. I'll work on it. I'll reach out to them tomorrow morning." He looked at the photographs again, and sighed. Just what his personal war with Joker needed: another battlefront.

Selina came up and leaned against his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist. "Thank you, Bruce."

…

Jay had to admit, the mulled wine wasn't half bad. Last time he'd been at the Manor for Christmas, Alfred had only let him drink soft cider. Couldn't blame the guy, Jay had only been fifteen. He wasn't normally a wine drinker – too pretentious – but this was nice, warm spices over the red wine, an orange slice and a cinnamon stick floating in his cup.

He sipped it, wondering when Kala would be able to get away, surprising himself by sort of getting into the spirit. Helping Alfred decorate the thirty-foot-tall tree in the main hall had even been _fun_. The smell of baking spices and evergreen boughs percolated through the entire Manor, and the view from any window was picture-perfect, with snow frosting the landscaping. Any second now, he'd start humming a Christmas carol.

And then hopefully someone would shoot him and put him out of his misery before he completed his transformation into a normal person. Which, given his history, would actually be extremely freaky. Maybe he could call on Lois Lane to put him down; he was still recovering from having met _her_. No wonder Kala was such a spitfire.

The answer to his problems walked into the parlor then, following after Roy and Lian. Jay had barely met Lian, before his death, and didn't quite know how to handle her now. He liked kids, but he didn't get to spend any real time with them. The boys he'd helped had all been teens. Roy at least was an okay guy. He'd had enough drama in his life so far, from what the rumor mill said, and wasn't looking to start any more. They'd been having a civil non-conversation a few minutes ago as Lian worked on a puzzle.

Donna Troy strolled in behind them, and Jay looked up at her. She looked good, as usual, but also a little nervous. Dick had warned him that she'd be here today, and also warned him to be nice.

So Jay decided to be as nice as possible, and troll them both at the same time. It was a great way to get rid of his megrims. With a little luck, he'd get himself thrown out of the house and have to spend Christmas at the bunker with K.

He set down the wine and rose, beaming. "Merry Christmas, Donna! C'mere, gimme a hug." And while she stared at him, he crossed the room in long strides and hugged her.

Honestly, Jay was expecting to get cuffed upside the head for that. Which would of course be his fault, because she was _Donna freaking Troy_. Everyone would assume he'd provoked it, and of course he actually _had_. So that would set the tone, and he could shake off all this family togetherness after one big argument with Dick, and go back to being a paranoid antisocial hermit. Shit, they all thought Timmy was the most like Bruce … who was down in the Cave, _working_, while everyone else added even more decorations outside.

To his everlasting shock, Donna hugged him back. And then took him by the shoulders, holding him at arm's length with the casual ease of super-strength. "Still a troll, Jay," she said, and smiled. "Merry Christmas, regardless."

It was usually _Kala_ who saw through him that quick, and she had x-ray vision. "Well hell, Donna, just ruin all my fun right there."

"I told her you were getting all antsy over turning into a real boy," Roy said, setting Lian down so she could return to her puzzle. She ignored all the adults in the room for the moment, and Jay had a fleeting thought that he wished he could ignore their pasts the same way.

Jay glared at Roy. "That's absolutely not fair. Snitches get stitches, _Speedy_."

"You couldn't make a sincere threat that'd matter, Jaybird," Roy laughed.

Glowering at both of them, he dropped back into the chair he'd been in. "Fine, we'll all pretend we're in a sitcom and this sh-stuff is usual," he complained, changing the wording at the last second. "So how's it been, Donna? Snap any good pics lately?"

"I've got some things I'm thinking about putting in a gallery," she said easily, taking one end of the sofa. Roy took the other, ruffling Lian's hair on the way by. Donna arched a dark brow at Jay, and asked, "So what's new with you? Besides Kala, since you told me about her."

For a moment, Jay was at a loss for words. What was there to say? And how the hell did normal people do small talk? He was good for a few minutes' conversation about traffic or the weather, but that was about it.

He opened his mouth, planning to say something sarcastic, but what came out was, "Over the summer, I went under deep cover, and met this pack of homeless kids. Not a gang, they were trying to stay clear of all that. I lived with 'em for a couple weeks, trying to figure out who was kidnapping people. Turned out to be Black Mask, and that's a whole bunch of grotesque crap you don't wanna hear, but the end game is I couldn't just leave these kids without some kind of protection."

Donna leaned forward a little, interested, and Roy looked surprised. "So what did you do?"

"Bought the building they were squatting in, and made sure they had food and clothes and stuff," Jay said with a short laugh. "The youngest one and the oldest one were the two smartest – they figured out I was Red Hood. I tried to warn 'em off, but they all pretty much decided I was a safer bet than anyone else on the street. So I got them working on their GEDs and stuff. We had to move 'em outta that building when Two-Face found it, and now they're scattered all over. Bruce fronted apartments for the older ones, Dinah helped 'em do the court stuff to get emancipated and find jobs, and two of 'em went to Metropolis. Kala's keeping an eye on them. The oldest is in trade school now."

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Roy asked with a knowing smile. "Taking care of people."

"Shit, no," Jay said, and winced, but Lian didn't look up. "Now I've got more people to worry about. I'm always wondering if they're gonna be okay, if anybody's bothering them, if they're getting their schoolwork done, if they're eating right. I went from lone wolf to fu-freakin' _scout leader_."

"You can blame that on dating the Big Blue Boy-Scout's daughter," Roy opined.

Jay startled back, his eyes widening. "Aww, come on, don't start that."

"It's not her fault, Roy," Donna cut in, smiling a little. Jay wondered if he was the only one who'd seen that starting-trouble grin curve her lips; he tended to inspire a streak of wickedness in her. She caught his gaze and continued, "It doesn't surprise _me_ that Jay's taking care of those kids. He's always struck me as the fatherly type."

He actually felt his jaw drop. Pure horror silenced him – Jay had no interest in perpetuating any of his own issues, thank you very much. He wound up to really let Donna know how he felt about that … and saw Lian from the corner of his eye. _Shit_. No way could he unleash a torrent of profanity in front of a kid that young. It'd just feel wrong.

So Jay gritted his teeth, glared at Donna, and said, "You're a sick, twisted soul, Wonder-babe."

She smirked at him, glowing with pride at being able to poke fun at him when he'd set out to give her grief. Alfred came in before Jay could think of a comeback, bringing mulled wine for Donna and Roy, cider for Lian. She stopped working on her puzzle to take it, thanking Alfred in a serious voice. "You are very welcome, my dear," Alfred told her, then turned to the rest. "Master Bruce is still working, of course, but the others should be back inside momentarily. I believe they've finished with the outdoor lights."

"If I'd known I had to _entertain_, I might've gone with them," Jay groused.

Donna leaned one elbow on the arm of the sofa and looked at him seriously. "Oh, stop, Jay. You want the honest truth? I'm not surprised to hear that about the kids, because you've _always_ looked out for women and children. Even when you _were_ a kid. I'm not surprised at all that they trust you, either."

"Gotta back her up there," Roy added. "I mean, I _also_ wasn't surprised when you went through the worst part of this town like a chainsaw through butter, with about as much mess. You don't give the bad guys any slack, but you always took care of the good guys."

"Not always," Jay said darkly, remembering his war on Gotham.

Roy just shrugged. "We've all been in dark places and done bad things, Jay. You might be the most dramatic, but you're not alone."

"I'd trust you to take care of any child," Donna said. She gave a little smile, and added, "You might expand their vocabulary and feed them junk food, but you'd never let a kid come to any harm."

Jay scoffed. "Red Hood, babysitter. Nice to know I have a second career in case the vigilante gig doesn't work out." It sounded ridiculous, but he didn't think Donna was making fun of him. Well, a little, but she was serious too. She really thought he could be trusted with a kid.

Fuck, he didn't even know the first thing about taking care of kids.

"We all need a backup," Roy said mock-seriously, and then the others came in. In the slew of greetings from Tim and Dick – which included the latter actually picking Donna up in a hug, making her laugh delightedly – Jay felt safely anonymous again.

…

Pam was half-asleep at the time, her mind still restless. There were plans to make, contingencies to account for, and threats to defend against, all of which tended to keep her up late. Not even Harley snuggled in beside her, breathing slow and even, could help her drift off. Not tonight.

Harley's sister had pointed out something they'd all overlooked: when Joker couldn't find Harley, he was liable to search deeper instead of giving up. And there were legal records of the Quinzel family, showing that Harley had a sister. A sufficiently determined criminal psychopath could eventually find out where Delia was these days. Oh, there were Quinzel cousins upstate, too, but a _sister_ … Joker was smart enough to know that Harley might stay hidden if he killed a cousin. Cut up her sister on live TV? Or worse, her sister's kids? Harley would sacrifice herself to prevent that.

Even worse, if he looked at Lucy and saw his own eyes and Harley's features.

Harley had come back from Brooklyn with photos on her phone of herself and both girls, along with copies of the school photos and family portraits. Memorabilia, something to hold tightly to while she and Pam fled everything they knew. As they'd left, Harley forcing herself not to linger, Lucy had given her 'aunt' one of her stuffed toys, a buck-toothed plush beaver holding a heart in its paws. Selina had said Harley had damn near lost it right then, just barely holding on until she got into the car and out of sight. They'd driven over the Brooklyn Bridge with Harley clutching the toy and weeping miserably.

She'd still been crying when they got home, trying to dry her tears in front of Pam and failing miserably. A spike of resentment ran through her at the memory – Joker had taught her that, to put on a pleasant face for her lover. Pam had held her instead, letting her cry, stroking her hair. Even Selina had stayed, rubbing her back and looking solemnly at Pam.

They hadn't needed to talk about it. Now that Selina knew about Lucy, she realized what Pam had known for years. This was always going to happen. There were only three possible outcomes to this little love triangle: either Harley died and Pam killed Joker for it; someone killed Joker and they either took over his gang or fled; or they left Gotham for someplace far enough away that Harley would lose any chance of seeing her daughter grow up. As it stood, killing Joker had always been Pam's preferred option, but Selina seemed very convinced that they weren't safe in the city, that even _trying_ to kill Joker was too dangerous to contemplate. She'd learned to trust feline hunches.

Selina was taking care of the Southards, too. She'd gotten both of her men involved, Bat-security and Wayne money, and Pam wondered briefly how the hell she found the _time_ to see both of them. Plus there was her ongoing thing with Holly Robinson, and her work, and the occasional vigilantism that made Pam roll her eyes. At least her dalliances with heroism came in useful for her friends, even if it limited her in other ways.

Harley hadn't let go of the silly stuffed beaver for hours. It was currently on top of the bookshelf in their bedroom, out of reach of curious hyenas. Both of whom were also in the bed, making it exceedingly crowded, but they wouldn't leave Harley's side when she was upset.

Pam sighed, closing her eyes, and tried to sweep all the past and future from her mind, leaving only the now. They were as safe as possible, hiding out in an anonymous apartment far from anything either of them had ever chosen before. Fifteen stories above the ground, the only green things for blocks were the plants Ivy had brought with her. The place was furnished, and soundproofed by the prior tenant who'd been a jazz musician practicing at all hours. That kept the neighbors from hearing the hyenas' curious grunts and chuckles as they explored the place.

It had a balcony, and thankfully Bud and Lou were litter-trained. The balcony was screened, and Harley had hung shade-cloth inside it to further obscure the view. For the moment, they were completely undetectable, even to people living mere feet away on the other side of a wall.

Getting _out_ unseen was going to be a problem, but when they left here, they would be headed to an airport, most likely. The bank job had netted them enough money for secrecy…

An echo of pain screamed across Pam's senses, and she sat bolt upright, clutching her chest. Harley fell onto Lou, who yelped, and Bud whined at all of them from the foot of the bed. Pam paid no attention, didn't even hear Harley asking what was wrong, because she was on fire, she was burning, stems smoking and leaves withering, _pain_ like nothing any animal ever understood…

Every plant in the apartment swayed violently, sending out new roots clawing up from their pots. Harley saw that, knew what it meant, and grabbed Pam's shoulders, giving her a brisk shake. "Snap out of it, Pammy, it's not you," she said urgently.

Ivy heard her, but mind was lost in the Green, lost in the howling echo where peace had been only moments ago. It _was_ her, she was part of it, her physical body might not be harmed but her soul was scarred. Something was wrong, _bad_ wrong, and close enough that she'd _felt_ it despite not being connected to the soil. Destruction and ruin cried out for help, and Ivy rose from the bed, heading to the window.

She pulled up the blinds, looking out at the city. The horizon was orange; a mile or so to the west, something was burning hugely. The Gotham City Arboretum was that way, hundreds of rare and delicate lives nurtured in beauty, now ending in flame. Ivy gripped with window frame, rage boiling in her chest.

Beneath the paint was wood, lengths of cheap softwood cut and dried and treated and smothered in layers of latex paint. Wood long since dead, but Ivy's wrath breathed new life into it, and the paint bubbled up as tiny new shoots sprang up from beneath it. The air suddenly smelled of pine, green needles growing so fast they bristled like porcupine quills.

Ivy breathed in, feeling the room around her. Every pine stud in the walls, every bit of trim around doors and windows, every length of wood in bookshelves and desk, and the living plants in their pots. She breathed out, and the Green sang in her silence.

The miniature rose on her nightstand burst its pot, sending thorny tendrils crawling blindly across the wall. The nightstand itself was cardboard and veneer, like the floating shelves, but the desk was solid cherry. It rippled under the dark stain, branches rising from the top of it, life singing itself into being. The trim around the other windows and the door spiked out more pine needles, and the mahogany bookshelf flung off its paint and grew bark instead. Inside the walls, knots in the pine studs began to sprout.

Rage, _rage_, with that senseless ruin fueling her Ivy could bring the whole apartment to life, the whole _building_. So what if there were representatives of kingdom Animalia here too? Blood and bone meal to feed the roots writhing across the carpet, that's all they were. Poison Ivy stared at the flame-lit tower of smoke rising into the sky, and craved retribution like rain.

The two hyenas were crowded into the center of the room, as far as possible from the verdant growth, both of them whining uncertainly. Harley rushed to Ivy's side, trying to take her hands from the window frame, but her human muscle was nothing against the strength of trees that stood rooted fast against hurricanes.

Instead Harley ducked under her arm, shoving herself between Ivy and the window, standing on tiptoe to meet her gaze. "Pam, you have to stop," she said urgently. "The whole point of this place was _hiding_, we can't give ourselves away like this. You _have_ to stop."

"He burned the arboretum," Ivy said thickly, her mind and senses far away from this room. "There is a live oak there older than this city, a tree so ancient it was no longer a sapling when the first white men stepped onto these shores. He splashed its bark with gasoline – I can feel it burning now, the flames are eating through layers of wood to my heart." This was like no pain any human could ever understand.

"_Pam._ You have to cut yourself off from it," Harley urged, grabbing hold of the t-shirt she'd worn to bed. Harley's eyes were still swollen from crying, but what were the lives of mammals to the Green? Less than a family of squirrels living among the mighty oak's branches, and what did the tree care if a nestling should happen to fall? All things died, and their bodies fed the Green.

Fire was the foe, and Pam _knew_ who had done it. _Joker_. Unnatural, foul creature, he was like no other animal. Not just a beast, he was an aberration. He was flame and gasoline, he was the sickening chemicals that withered green life at a touch, he was the salt and copper driven into a tree stump so not even the persistent life of the Green could renew it. He was death, not part of the cycle of renewal, the death of metal and plastic and concrete swallowing up the world. He was the Enemy.

"I'll kill him," Ivy growled, and the burning plants of the arboretum whispered _Yes_ in her mind, the life she'd called into being in this room sang out _Yes_ in harmony. There was some deeper level of the Green beneath what she knew, something the man she'd once known as Alec Holland had spoken of to her, long after they had both mostly shed their human lives. Ivy knew if she reached for that, if she let herself sink into it, she could find Joker wherever he was and kill him. Topple the nearest tree onto him, wind a tendril of sturdy Virginia creeper around his throat and hang him, crack the sidewalk under his feet and let the roots pull him down to smother.

"Pam, _please_, I need you," Harley said, her hands on either side of Ivy's face, looking into her eyes intently. "You _have_ to stop."

She wasn't speaking to the daughter of the Green. Harley called her by her human name, and Ivy was not like Holland. The man Alec Holland was _dead_, his mind and memories absorbed by the Green and reanimated in vegetable form. Dr. Pamela Isley was still very much alive, her body changed but still human at its core, and she loved this maddening blonde creature as fiercely as Ivy loved the Green.

To have her vengeance, to become the avatar of the Green completely, Ivy had to kill the last of Pam within her. Once she did that, this all-too-human woman would be nothing more than a memory, a dream another self had once had. In a way, it would be a relief to be free of this love that had caused her so much pain, so much grief.

The rose, the desk, the window frame, all shuddered with Ivy's indecision. So did the bookshelf, and the stuffed toy fell from atop it. It landed on the carpet and bounced, the movement catching Harley's eye. She turned, and flinched at the sight. Her talisman of the daughter she'd given away, toppled by her lover's unleashed rage.

Pam snatched at control of herself with both hands. _No_, no matter what, she was _not_ going to be the one who hurt Harley, who put that wounded and defeated look in her eyes. _No_. She was not that person. And with her denial of the Green came just enough distance so that the burning arboretum was something she knew, and despised – no longer something that was personally happening to her, screaming along her nerves. She gasped, and called back the runaway growth threatening to rip the room apart around them.

Harley threw her arms around Pam's neck and kissed her soundly. Pam held her carefully, letting herself be held in turn. This was the one person in Gotham who'd never doubted her connection to the Green was something _real_.

Her love for Harley was very _real_, too. She was the most unexpected thing that had ever happened to Pam – and it was decidedly a case of _happened to_. Poison Ivy hadn't gone out looking for love. Love had fallen across her path, swept in like a storm, burrowed into her heart and found Pam still inside her. Of all the people she could've fallen in love with, _Joker's girlfriend_ was objectively the _worst_ choice.

But Harley herself? Harley was her anchor in humanity.

Leaning her head on Harley's shoulder with a shuddering sigh, Pam said, "Joker really did just set fire to the arboretum."

"Yeah, and we both know he did it 'cause he can't find us," Harley said, running her fingers through Pam's hair soothingly. "He's tryin' to bring you out, Pam. If you go for him now, he'll be waitin' with a flamethrower. I can't … I can't lose you, too. I'm sorry, I know it hurts, I know it's my fault he's goin' after you…"

"No. It's not your fault. It's mine." Pam kissed her cheek. The moment she chose to save Harley's life, the moment she felt herself falling in love and didn't immediately run away, she'd known something like this could happen eventually.

"We can't do it now. We gotta take 'im by surprise. And right now he knows both of us are lookin' to kill him. Pammy, we gotta wait. But I promise you, we'll get him for this." Harley spoke fervently, but her voice was still fragile.

Pam sighed, and straightened up. She thought of everything else Swamp Thing had told her, how her rage was a remnant of her humanity. If she'd let herself dive into the Green the way he had, her understanding of the world might have changed enough that she wouldn't even want revenge on Joker anymore. Certainly Alec Holland's perspective had never been so broad and deep as it was now.

And that was an idea, wasn't it? Anyone who suspected they were going to leave would be looking at international flights. Selina had stressed _out of the country_ repeatedly, and hinted that the Southards would need passports wherever Batman was going to hide them. If she and Harley made a stop somewhere else first, they could break their trail someplace where Pam's effect on the local flora would go unnoticed. And perhaps gain some material help, as well.

"I know where we need to go," she said quietly. "And … thank you, Harley."

"For what?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. "Gettin' you into all of this bullshit?"

Pam stroked her cheek, and kissed the bridge of her nose. "For keeping me … _me_. If you hadn't been here, I would've done something I'd regret. And then probably walked right into a trap and gotten myself killed."

"He's good at traps," Harley murmured, and nuzzled close.

Pam held her a moment longer, then stepped away. As Harley looked after her, she went to the bookshelf and carefully picked up the stuffed toy. With a gentle touch, the bookshelf went quiescent again, smoothing down its surfaces – thought she left the branches. Whoever got this place after them deserved some interesting furniture in return for the structural damage she'd inadvertently wrought.

At least none of the pine saplings had broken through the drywall. The neighbors would've noticed that, and odd vegetable phenomena would certainly bring the Bats. Pam couldn't smile, not yet, but she placed the stuffed beaver back on top of the shelf reverently.

It helped, a little, to realize the fire department was at arboretum now, trying to save as much as they could. The ancient oak was doused in water that finally extinguished the gasoline soaked into its bark. It would survive, Pam realized. It had weathered fires before.


	23. Does Illusion Count for Something

**Authors' Note: **Sorry for the delay - this one required a lot of thought to hit the right emotional notes.

* * *

The last show of the KLK tour before the Christmas break was in Phoenix. Feeling thin and fraying, Kala powered through it, holding on to the knowledge that she didn't have to do this again until the second week of January. Of course, that kicked off with _four shows_ in Las Vegas, the most they'd ever done in one city. It was Vegas, though, and Sin City was built on extravagant entertainment.

But that wouldn't be until after her good, long break; there was plenty of time to worry about it in January. This close to the home-stretch, all that mattered was that they close out the year with a good show. It was almost a relief that Phoenix hadn't quite sold out, but the venue was still pretty packed, and Kala had been determined to sing this last venue with all her heart. To remind herself why she did this, despite the the chaos that had been the last few months. Just get out there and revel in what she did, what she could accomplish, even if there was one voice instead of two.

With a rallying cry backstage, all of them rushed the darkened stage, the aggressive opening riff of _Everyone's Fool_ roaring over her before the lights blazed to life, Kala's voice soaring out of the darkness. At this point, they knew the set backwards and forwards, so the decision was made that they would all take their cues from Morgan, the set-list on rotation at his whim tonight. It was fairly common for them at this point in a tour, keeping the performance fresh, the anticipation keeping them all alert and at peak. Hell, Morgan even snuck _Torn_ in there, not to mention _Big Mistake_, both hard rocking solos of hers from a couple of years ago; Kala laughed aloud into the mic when she realized what he was doing. The change brought the energy back up, she and the boys grinning at each other like fiends, the fans roaring in reaction to the band's animation. This, this was why she did this, calling out to the audience with only the sound of her voice, the force of her words. Letting herself get lost in the music when Morgan lead them all into a dark, guitar-driven version of _Shatter Me, _letting herself project all of her emotions into the song. They closed out the set with their own _What You Want_, the four of them rocking it as hard as they could.

Then there were the encores, which KLK had always made a habit of doing fun cover songs, usually something completely out of their own genre. The fans loved it, the songs chosen really were a spontaneous thing, and it was refreshing to change up from their own style sometimes. The first encore was a hard-edged cover of Jimmy Eat World's hit song, _The Middle_; it was always nice to pay homage to a local band and it was a hell of a lot of fun to spin it their own way, losing most of the pop-shininess for sheer power. They had another very popular tune, _Pain_, but Kala didn't want to sing a breakup song tonight. Her last call with Sebast was too much on her mind, and her feelings for Jay were too immense to contemplate. Better to sing about doing your best and living for yourself, not caring what others thought. _That_ was a message everyone needed to hear.

She knew she _was_ going to have to sing about Jay, though; better to address it than pretend it wasn't happening. That video in Denver had started a bunch of debate and speculation on the fan forums. Kala had finally gone online, and laughed at all the 'evidence' supporting the most popular suspects. Amusingly, no one suspected another singer – one small but determined faction insisted the man she was kissing _had_ to be the recently-signed running back for the Denver Broncos, for God's sake. There were also suspicions cast toward several popular actors, including the snarky brother from the vampire show. Kala had looked him up and there _was_ a bit of a resemblance; it was made even better knowing that Red would be horrified if she told him. By now, the original footage had been altered everywhere it cropped up online, and it was possible to make an argument for just about anyone with dark hair.

To everyone's surprise, the incident hadn't faded away. Kala was typically very private about her love affairs; the summer appearances with Dick left an impression, but she'd never _said_ she was dating him. The whole time she'd been with Marlene, the fan forums tried to pair her with everyone she'd ever been photographed with twice. Kala herself had started a rumor under a fake username that she was secretly dating another singer known for her breakup albums. It had been meant as a joke, but she'd actually been asked in interviews for her opinion on both Taylor Swift and Adele. Kala had turned the question aside by quoting the popular meme that suggested they date each other, split up, and create the greatest breakup albums of all time. It had gotten her some online hate from Swift's dedicated (and possibly rabid) fanbase, but rumor had it that someone had told Adele, who found it hilarious.

At least it wasn't newsworthy to suggest she'd date a woman. Kala had handled that early in her career, singing Melissa Etheridge covers in Kansas City. In interviews after, she'd made it clear that her support for the community wasn't just because her best friend and co-singer was gay. She just didn't publicize relationships, whether with men or women.

Now, though, her 'mystery man' was still a topic of conversation months after the original video, and someone had leaked the incidents of Kala not being in her room or turning up almost-late, because everyone seemed to think she was still sneaking off to see her secret lover. Kala wanted to end the encores with a cover that would speak to the issue.

She ran through a cover of Tori Amos' _Spark_, and when the energy level began to wane, she leaned in to the mic. "All right, Phoenix, I'd love to stay up here forever, but you know we've gotta go," she called out, and got a greedy roar in response. They didn't want her to leave, they wanted every ounce of her voice and spirit they could get, and for now, she loved them for it even while she found this side of her life exhausting.

Kala laughed, giving a dramatic groan that drew another cheer, and said with a indulgent grin and a sigh, "Okay, fine, one more song for the road. Just one more. _One_. Phoenix, we love you!" And that was the boys' cue.

The song she'd chosen started almost a cappella, just a little percussion and Kala's vocals soaring in a passable imitation of Florence Welch – though no one in the industry had a voice quite like hers. She'd picked this song for the chorus, which she hoped Jay would know was being sung directly to him, and for its second verse. In some ways it echoed her own song, _Anything for You_, with the theme of surrendering everything for love.

Leaning into the mic, Kala closed her eyes, investing every last drop of emotion into the lyrics as she hit that second verse. "I wish to remain nameless, and live without shame, 'Cause what's in a name, oh I still remain the same. You can call it what you want, you can call me anything you want. You can call us what you want, you can call me anything you want…"

The crowd went wild as the instrumentals came in and she opened up her lungs to the limit of her ability. Again, she lost herself to the music, letting all of this with the two of them paint the emotion in the lyrics. It was the closest she could say how she felt to his face without the consequences; funny, how it was easier to tell it to a crowd of thousands the way she felt than one gun-shy Bat. Kala had to grin at that before losing herself to the beat again. "Call me when you need me," she sang as if Jay were right there within reach of her voice. "Call me anything you want. Darling, believe me, nothing I haven't done before…"

The rest of the song was an almost hypnotic chant, alternating between "Call me when you need me" and "Darling, believe me". Half the crowd was singing it along with her by the end, and it felt as electric as her very first performance, the very first time she'd linked into the connection between music and singer and audience. Kala still remembered that moment: she'd been so caught up in stage fright that she'd forgotten her lyrics, contemplating a career as an accountant, her palms sweating and her knees shaking.

And then something inside her had risen up and blown the fear away. Defiance, courage, sheer stubborn contrariness, it was the distilled essence of Lane in her heart that threw off the anxiety, a cloak of calm descending over her. She'd turned her voice loose and sung a Britney Spears song to a Goth club … and people had _sung along_.

That had been the very beginning, and Kala promised herself they'd practice _Circus_ before the first show in Vegas. It was time to bring that one out of retirement for the encores.

Kala held the last note on _Remain Nameless_ as long as she could, closing her eyes as she finished it with a slow smile and opened her eyes to wink at the audience. Again, that deafening approval, applause and cries from around the arena. Turning, she called out the boys, each by name, all of them high on the adrenaline and grabbing hands. Raising their arms in triumph, Kala called out, "You've been incredible, Phoenix! Thank you so much! It's been an awesome night! See you in Vegas! Thank you, all, and good night!" For a few moments, they lingered, catching hands in the front row, pumping fists and throwing their arms up and out in acknowledgment of the adulation that poured back at them before the stage lights lowered and they could escape offstage, all of them slowing to a jog once they were out of sight.

Because of the timing, the label had agreed to no backstage event this time, only a few fans to greet and sign for, so after about fifteen minutes of meet-and-greet, they could all change clothes and crawl off to the hotel. So very nearly there. Once they had seen the last person happily out, Kala leaned against the wall in the green room and let out a huge sigh. "I don't believe it; no _anything_ for the next three weeks. I can't believe it, but we made it, guys."

"Thank God," Ned muttered, arming sweat off his forehead.

There were several mutters of agreement with that. "Not gonna lie, this has been a helluva long slog," Morgan said, nodding to Kala. Seeing as he had been with her and Sebast from early on, he remembered the longest of the band's tours. Morgan would know from experience. "But you're right, we made it through pretty much kinda intact. You know I love you idiots, but I'm gonna be so glad to get home this time. Sorry, Kala."

That prompted snorts of amusement from all of them. Yeah, no easy road had the last two months been, to say nothing of the entire tour so far. "No offense and dear God, _same_," Kala laughed, with feeling. She'd kept her holiday plans vague, so the others would think she was running off to meet her boyfriend before she headed home of the big family annual get-together. And so Morgan, much as she loved him, wouldn't offer to share a flight with her. After being pretty much under lock and key since Derek left, Kala was looking forward to soaking up the sun as soon as possible, and then finally going _home_. As much as she truly did love this vagabond life she lead, she could never remember looking forward to a breather so much.

Sebast had left for Ponce this morning, and she had their house all to herself. Though she had reservations and didn't lie to herself about it, Kala couldn't deny that she was looking forward to collapsing into her own bed and sleeping for like three whole days, followed by a long soak in a full-sized tub in which the water would rise above her hips. Maybe she'd only live in the tub for a day; that was a lie, it would easily be two since she couldn't prune. The thought made her sigh happily, doubled when she realized that there would be no road-food until next month. Yeah, she could die delirious over that fact.

But the band had one more pre-holiday-break tradition, and she wouldn't miss it for the world. "Okay, all. On the bus, to the hotel, to the showers, and into the bed. Five hours to sleep like the dead before we feast. Morgan, Ned got to pick it last year, so it's your turn to pick where we go for breakfast," she said.

"Already got one in mind," he replied with a grin as they all headed out the stage door of the venue, Ned reaching over to pull Robb into an affectionate headlock as they went, Robb squawking theatrically as they scuffled. Morgan just shook his head and he and Kala shared an eye-roll as he followed them out. Pausing for a moment, Kala watched them go. Her boys. Life hadn't always been easy; but somehow they always managed to pull through as a group. They made it work. And if she and Sebast could figure their situation out, so much the better. They'd weather it, they always did. No matter what came next, they had managed to make it through to Arizona even with all the obstacles that had been thrown at them, and she couldn't be more proud of them. They had all earned this. One last big breakfast together, probably including dozens of ridiculous pictures of them all together to show off to their families, and then they'd go their separate ways for the holidays. They were going to be okay, she thought with a warm smile.

With a little laugh, Kala followed the boys out. No matter what, they were all going to be just fine.

…

Steph was still annoyed with Cass, that she'd even _considered_ not telling her about the message from Babs. But she'd come clean in the end, and after a furious debate including several emails back and forth to Babs herself, Steph had reluctantly concluded that they had to stay in Libya.

The cold truth was, Gotham was getting more dangerous by the day. Joker had set a bounty on Harley Quinn's head, and every day that it wasn't met, Joker got angrier. So far he had bombed a library, committed some gruesome murders, and firebombed the arboretum. That last was a move calculated to draw Poison Ivy out of hiding, and Steph was frankly terrified that anyone would _want_ to fight with her. Then again, Joker _was_ crazy.

Even Babs admitted that in light of that last one, she and Cass should stay put. No way did she want them in the middle of a war between Ivy and Joker. She'd rather they leave Libya and wait someplace safer, like Metropolis, but neither of them would sit around twiddling their thumbs while they could be working. And Cass wasn't going to leave her mother's trail until they knew what Shiva wanted.

So they stayed, and were _very_ circumspect. They'd moved their surveillance to the Tibesti mountains, where the League of Shadows apparently had a compound. Which meant she and Cass were camping out, moving from place to place, eavesdropping in villages. They couldn't risk approaching anyone – strangers in the area would undoubtedly be reported to the League. Babs was lending them all the support she could via satellite images of their surroundings. They'd already spotted a few familiar faces from their earlier surveillance in the area, so they knew they were on the right track.

Tonight they'd gotten lucky, and found an abandoned house to stay in. It did get chilly at night, and Steph was glad of a roof over her heard. Cass had put their bedrolls in the most defensible room, and as they curled up to sleep – no matter how annoyed she might be with her girlfriend, sharing body heat was a necessity at this point, and Steph wasn't the type to give the cold shoulder anyway – she set an alarm on her watch.

Doing so meant she saw the date, and Steph just laid there stunned until Cass rolled over. They didn't dare use a light, and there was only moonlight outside, creeping through the windows just enough to show her the outline of Cass' head as she looked at her curiously.

She knew what Cass would ask, anyway. "I just realized what day it is," she said mournfully. "I … Cass, if something doesn't give soon, we're gonna end up spending Christmas like this. Maybe New Year's too."

It didn't feel like Christmas, without snow. Hell, even the coldest nights were only in the forties, and the days were in the sixties, sometimes seventies. That was spring weather for Steph, or maybe autumn. Not Christmas at all.

Not the last few years had been very Christmasy, either. At least in the camp in South Sudan, she had plenty to keep her busy and keep her from obsessing about it. Some of the missionaries in the area tried to push people to celebrate the holiday, but Steph felt weird about that. There were almost as many religious traditions as languages in the camp, and she didn't want to impose on anyone. She managed to get presents for and from Doc Leslie and Cass and a couple of the staff members who appreciated it, but it had been _years _since she'd seen snow.

Cass looked at her solemnly, then looked around the house they were staying in. "Have to move," she finally said. "No chimney."

It took Steph a beat to realize what she meant, and then she was laughing, burying her face in Cass' shoulder to stifle it. She was the one who'd explained the whole Santa Claus thing to Cass in the first place, who'd had all kinds of logical questions about it. Trying to figure out how Santa got to kids in apartments – was a radiator enough like a chimney? Why did rich kids get better gifts? – had made Steph wonder how she'd _ever_ believed the story.

Laughter cleared the air, and made the danger they faced and the homesickness she felt more bearable. Steph snuggled up to Cass with a sigh. "I'm glad I have you."

"Why?" Cass asked quietly.

Anyone else, Steph would've assumed they were fishing for compliments. Cass asked genuinely – and perhaps with some regret. She was perfectly aware that the only reason Steph hadn't followed Doc Leslie home to Gotham was _her_.

Steph leaned in, finding Cass' cold nose in the dark and then placing a gentle kiss on the bridge of it. "I could be flip and say you're a whole lot better at this than me – I'd be in big trouble trying to do this without you. But really, Cass? I'm always glad to have you. You make me happy."

Silence answered her for a long moment, until Cass tilted her face up and kissed her lips. Slow and thoughtful, as if love were another language she'd learned with much care and patience. When Cass pulled back, Steph murmured, "That's not the only way you make me happy."

"You should be happy," Cass told her softly. "You deserve … happiness, in all ways."

"So do you," Steph reminded her. "And part of why I love you is because you believe that about me. Maybe that's what love is, ultimately. Wanting every kind of happiness for someone else."

No sound but their mingled breaths as Cass thought about it. "Glad you're here. Also, want you safe. Here is not safe."

"No, it's not. But nowhere is. And I'm not going to let you face Shiva alone." On that point, Steph knew that no amount of martial arts could stop her. She had out-stubborned the Bat himself; Cass was no match for her determination. No one was. There were better detectives, better fighters, better trackers, better leaders in the extended Bat-family, and Steph knew it too well. But Bruce and Babs and Tim had all said two things about her that she was certain were true, the more so because she'd overheard it instead of being told directly. Steph had more heart than anyone else, and more sheer tenacity. She clung to those two facts fiercely, because especially since she'd crossed Black Mask, she was _never_ going to be the best at some of that other stuff.

Cass didn't have a response to that. She did, however, have an idea for how they could both stay warm, and she didn't even need words to suggest it.

…

On the whole, staying at the Manor was wise. It meant Jay didn't have to watch his own back, but he was confident of his security even against Joker. However, he was _also_ aware that the Clown didn't have practical considerations like most people. If he wanted to get around Jay's extensive security, setting fire to the building would do it. And Joker was getting awfully dramatic lately. Talk about a bad break-up, he was _clearly_ mad as hell and trying to make everyone pay for it.

Jay was glad not to have to worry about it. All his data was backed up, and he'd brought all his essentials to the Manor. But if he let himself think of it as being _chased_ from his home turf, he'd head right back to the bunker and sit up with a sniper rifle until Joker showed his ugly face.

Instead he focused on the benefits. He got to annoy Tim, who really needed to get out more. He got to hear updates from Bruce and Babs more quickly, too. But the _best_ reason to stick around was Alfred – and Alfred's cooking. The butler was really striving to outdo himself this holiday season, and it felt like they had one of Jay's favorites every night.

Maybe that was just because most of his favorite foods _were_ Alfred's recipes. The height of his culinary experience before meeting Batman had been Hamburger Helper. After his near-death, he'd had everything from haute cuisine in Paris to kobe beef in Japan, but by then his favorite foods were already mostly established. And Alfred knew them all.

Besides, Kala hadn't been able to swing by in a while, and his fridge was looking pretty bare. He didn't even know where half that stuff _was_ in the stores.

Jay tried to help out by cleaning up after meals, and any other chores he could take off Alfred's shoulders. Which was why he was in the kitchen this early, washing dishes. You'd think a place like Wayne Manor would have a top of the line dishwasher, but at some point Bruce had heard that having chores built responsibility, and so the only dishwasher in the house was generally a former or current Robin. Funny way to do things, but hell, the task itself was simple and soothing.

Or at least, it _was_. Until Jay abruptly realized he wasn't alone in the kitchen. He didn't question the knowledge, not caring if it was a change in air pressure or some tiny sound that alerted him. He just whirled around, and the kris was in his hand without him even needing to think about drawing it.

Donna raised her eyebrows, and then slowly raised her hands. "Little jumpy?" she asked.

"It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you," Jay said, lowering the knife. "You know better than to sneak up on me, Donna."

She sighed, and walked up to him, picking up a clean dish towel on the way. "One, I wasn't sneaking. I just got out of the habit of clearing my throat every time I enter a room. Two, I come in peace. Don't stab the help, okay?"

"Shit, you're a lot more than the help," Jay said with a little laugh, putting the kris away. And wasn't this weird as hell, doing dishes with Troia?

His relationship with her had been the only time he'd gotten _domestic_. Like, grocery shopping and taking out the garbage on Tuesday nights kind of domestic. Sure, Kala stocked his fridge and occasionally cooked, but he couldn't see Kala ever purchasing a minivan. Hell, he wasn't even sure if she owned a car. Why would she need one, the way she flew?

Kala's 'normal' life, her day job, was a literal fucking rock star. Donna wanted much more normalcy than that. Donna had probably been a great PTA mom. She would've watched those video channels that were all crafts that parents and kids could do together. If her son had lived, she would've jumped on the slime craze and made the stuff with him.

If her son had lived, Robert would be out in the living room with Lian right now, under Roy's watchful eye, probably pestering her because that's what little brothers did.

Then again, if her husband had lived, she wouldn't be anywhere near Wayne Manor. Terry Long wanted normalcy, too. Oh, Jay figured he had liked the exotic spice of shacking up with _Wonder Girl_ – Jay himself had found that exciting – but ultimately Terry seemed like the kind of guy who wondered why a man couldn't come home to find dinner on the table and a freshly-poured martini waiting for him. The kind of man who'd get his kicks asking _Troia_ to rub his feet.

Fucking moron, if that was true.

The best part of being with Donna, for Jay, had been shaking her up a little and making her have _fun_ with all the powers and shit. Making her laugh, getting her to ease up a little on the whole 'responsible for saving the world since before I was old enough to drive' thing she had going on. Letting her cut loose, and proving he wouldn't run from or scold her for it or try to change what she was. She was a literal fucking _demigoddess_, an Amazon, a hero, a power in her own right. Smart and tough and funny, plus the sort of gentle that only came from having been hurt a few hundred times too many.

Jay only had two problems with Donna. The whole domestic thing, he either would've gotten used to that, or bounced and called it fundamental incompatibility. It wasn't a _problem_, as he saw it. No, the only things he saw as problems were her total hang-up about Dick, and her favorite unhealthy coping mechanism of retreating to self-righteous rules-lawyering. When in doubt, Donna toed the line – and when she was afraid, she'd harangue everyone _else_ into doing the same. Jay was all about pushing the line, or accelerating over it.

He'd seen plenty of that while they skipped across worlds, but he'd thought she would settle down some back on their Earth, with reliable backup. No such luck. Trying to be normal was just another part of that, like she could somehow keep herself safe by pretending to be a perfectly average person.

Jay hadn't realized he'd slipped into reminiscing until Donna asked, "What're you thinking, Jay? I can hear the gears turning."

"You first," he said, not wanting to tell her he'd been thinking about them. Or comparing her to Kala, who like him tended to accelerate over any lines drawn in the sand.

Donna sighed. "Remember Kara Zor-El."

He gave a short laugh, at that. "Still miss her? Should've told her you had such a crush."

She chipped his ankle, very lightly. "Don't be a jerk. I wonder sometimes if Argo survived, in our world, and just hasn't crossed paths with us yet."

"Clark went out there to what's left of Krypton. He would've seen Argo City, if was anywhere along the route," Jay told her. Reminded her, really, Donna should've known.

"Yes, but … it's not just Kara. All of those people. They lost an entire _culture_, Jay. In their world, they had one Kryptonian who actually lived on Krypton. Clark … it's a distant memory, for him." She shrugged.

Jay nodded, thinking. "They've still got a lot of their culture. You ever been to the Fortress of Solitude?"

Even as he asked, he realized the answer. "Diana has, not me. Wait … when did _you_ go? I think only Bruce and _maybe_ Barry have been up there."

He focused on the pot he was scrubbing for a moment. "Kala took me up there. She wanted me to see the history. There's recordings – _lots_ of recordings. Artifacts, well, I guess more reconstructions. And an artificial intelligence based on her grandfather, who very much did live on Krypton. It's not all gone, Donna."

"Wow," was all she could say, and he couldn't tell if she was impressed or jealous.

He decided to lead her off topic a little, if he could. "They have an accent, did you know? Well, the sentence structure thing is more obvious, but it counts. Even when she spoke English to her AI grandpa, Kala sounded different. Almost Shakespearean."

"I've heard Clark speak very formally," Donna mused.

"Yeah, that's part of it, the formal thing. But there's also a little bit of an accent. Sounds posh British, a little more crisp than American. Apparently Kala's almost more fluent than her dad. She was one of those overachiever kids, wanted to get everything right." He passed her the pot, and started on the utensils.

"I didn't know that about her," Donna mused. "But knowing it now explains why she took it so hard when I thundered at her."

"Yeah, well, she tends to want approval. I'm breaking her of that, by the way. Don't be surprised if she smacks you in the mouth when she gets here." Jay knew perfectly well that Kala wouldn't do such a thing, not without provocation. Warning Donna was meant to prevent the provocation from being given in the first place. There was still plenty of resentment lurking there, and some of it was because of his history with Donna.

Donna waved the towel at him. "_Stop_ it, Jay. I created the problem with Kala, and I will fix it. You might be surprised to realize I can function socially without you holding my hand. I managed for a long time while you were still in hot pants."

"Shit, if _I'm_ your social adviser, you're well and truly fucked," Jay laughed, and flicked water at him. "Also, that's cute. Shame on you for noticing my hot pants, I was _so_ underage."

Her jaw dropped in shock, and Donna snapped the towel at him. "_Jay!_ You … you … _ugh_, why are you like this?!"

"Because that look on your face is goddamn hilarious," he retorted, grabbing the sprayer. Not _spraying_ her with it, that would be a bad idea, but enough to make the point that he wasn't just gonna tamely accept being swatted.

Donna, however, picked up a ladle and hefted it threateningly. His years of training helpfully informed him that it probably was a lethal weapon, in her hands. "Yeah? The look on _your_ face right now is pretty funny, too."

"You smack me, Wonder-Bra, and Alfred's gonna be _real_ pissed when I get water all over his kitchen," Jay warned, his finger curling around the trigger of the sprayer.

She looked at him, ladle in one hand and the towel in the other, and suddenly burst out laughing. "You are _impossible!_"

At least she put the ladle down, and he returned the sprayer to its intended use rinsing dishes. "Yeah, well, so are you. Forget sword and shield, Wonder Girl's favorite weaponry includes cutlery and dish towel."

Donna' expression turned wistful, for some reason, and she said softly, "You always were good at helping me see the humor in things."

"That's me, comic relief," Jay replied. "Killing drug dealers was just a sideline."

"No, killing drug dealers was a means to an end," Donna said. "You've stopped killing people, anyway."

"Or I've just gotten a lot better at hiding the bodies," Jay said flippantly.

Donna, however, continued seriously. "Stuffing a bunch of heads into a bag and then presenting that bag to their superiors was not even hiding bodies _badly_. It was done for effect. Shock and awe. It's a wartime tactic to intimidate the opposition, and you conducted your first run through Gotham like a war."

Jay could only stare at her for a moment. "People forget the League of Shadows isn't just assassins. They're warriors, too."

"People forget that all Amazons are warriors, but I don't forget it," Donna replied.

"Neither did I," Jay told her.

She smiled at that, and he couldn't help the comparison. Kala would've given him a snarky grin, but Donna's smile was softer. Because Donna had fewer sharp edges in her personality, maybe, or just more time to smooth them out. Personally, he _liked_ Kala's sharpness. Donna just said, "That was half of what you liked about me. The other half, I think, was the sparkly v-neck uniform."

"I admit, it had an effect on an impressionable young Robin," Jay laughed.

Just then, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He dried his hands and took it out, smiling affectionately at Kala's name topping the list of his messages. Opening it, he read, _FREEDOM! Last show over, just finished eating breakfast with the boys. I'm getting some sun and heading HOME._

Jay sent back, _About damn time. Fly safe, Princess._

_Don't I always?_ She had to be laughing as she shot that back.

_Hell no, you NEVER do. Try not to hit any satellites. Wouldn't want you to damage that sweet Kryptonian ass._ Jay laughed under his breath, knowing she'd roll her eyes at that one.

Her reply to that was just as snarky as ever. _My detachable ass is safely in Gotham right now, so that should be fine. I'll sneak over as soon as I can, even if it's just for the evening._

She'd been calling him an ass literally since they met; Jay had fond associations with that snarled, 'trigger-happy asshole,' now. So he just replied, _Can't wait. Your ass should be right behind you at all times. I do like the view._

_Miss you, Big Bad,_ she sent back after a moment.

_Miss you too,_ was all he trusted himself to say.

Jay looked up from his phone and saw Donna staring at him with her eyebrows raised. "Kala, right? You don't smile like that at anyone else."

"Not true. I smile at messages from GrubHub bringing me dinner," Jay retorted.

"Not like that," she said, gently insistent. A pause, and Donna continued, "I notice Kala's new uniform has a very high collar."

Busted. If she knew he'd made the uniform – and of course Dick had told her – then Donna had a clue just how much he cared about Kala. It went way beyond mentor and trainee, even with attraction factored in. Then again, the look on his face when that text came in had likely given everything away. Still, Jay tried to keep the conversation light. "It's fine, I know where the zipper's hidden. And I put in enough support that she usually doesn't wear a bra under it, either."

She set the serving spoon she was drying aside and turned to him, crossing her arms. "Charming. And very patriarchal of you. No one should see her cleavage but you, right?"

Jay shot back, "It has nothing to do with that. Cleavage-baring uniforms are fucking impractical, even for the super-powered set. And she was running around in an honest-to-fucking-God _corset_, Donna. From one of her stage costumes. K needs something with some real armor, because she _does_ take a bit of damage occasionally, and with as many people shooting at her as she's seen in Gotham, she really doesn't need a bullet traveling straight down her cleavage. Picking lead out of your navel must be awkward."

Donna leaned her hip against the sink, watching him curiously. He wished he knew what was going on in her mind, but Donna had always been able to surprise him. "You're very protective of her."

He sighed, and set down the fork he'd been washing. "Look. Some people are a little too good for this world, you know? You can't help wanting to protect them. Despite being a legacy, despite all her powers, despite her mom being the damn media liaison, K's always been a little bit out of the loop. She came into this late, and only luck and powers kept her out of trouble. I gave her the training and the uniform to keep her _safe_. Someone has to. I'm not gonna watch anyone get their teeth kicked in if I can help it."

No answer, and he finally turned to her. Donna just smiled slightly. "You've always been like that. Not quite to this degree – you've never really put yourself out there like this. But you've always kept watch over the ones who needed protection. Jay, if I can ask … when did it go from wanting to protect her, to sleeping with her?"

He mirrored her pose, taking the towel from her and drying his hands with it. "You sure you wanna talk about this? Dick hasn't quite stopped threatening my life over how upset you were with me, after … well, after. Speaking of people who are protective."

Donna tipped her head back, stretching her neck to relieve the tension there, and then looked at him levelly. "What he doesn't realize, because I haven't told him and neither have you, is that I'm probably half the reason we broke up. More than half. I was very upset, yes, but part of that was guilt and self-recrimination. I'm well past that, now. I still like you, Jay, and probably always will – you're a good man, much as you try to hide it – but I'm not trying to convince myself we end up living happily ever after anymore."

That kind of honesty always made Jay uncomfortable. "I did my share of shitty stuff when we split up, too. As for liking … hell, who _wouldn't_ like you?"

"Kala, mostly," Donna said. "Because I worried too much and snapped at her. The same things you always told me would get me in trouble. Still glad she managed not to … what was it you said? _Yeet me into the sun_?"

"Okay, you have to stop," Jay laughed. "Also I said 'yeet your ass back to Themyscira'. If you're gonna quote me, get it right."

"It's my new favorite word. I'm going to use it for every villain I meet," Donna said dryly.

"Jesus fuck, _please_ don't," Jay said, still snickering. "I can't be responsible for that."

Donna just shrugged. "You never answered my question. When did you start wanting more than to protect her?"

"Okay, it's not a clean-cut timeline," Jay said. If she kept pushing, he'd tell her; if she was going to be here when Kala was, she'd have to get used to him and Kala being their usual selves. And they hadn't hidden the fact that they were together since Denver. So what he told her was, "When I first saw her, all I wanted was to get that fucking dilettante out of my town before she wound up dead in the bay. Maybe I'd listened a little too much to your side of all those arguments. My idea of protecting her back then was to chase her off – she looked like a spoiled little girl trying to play in the big leagues."

"What changed that?" Donna asked.

"She broke my nose. Well, first she damn near stabbed my hand with a fork at breakfast, I challenged her, she accepted, and I was hoping to kick her ass hard enough that she'd limp home to Metropolis, where most of the villains don't do the kind of shit ours do." Jay scoffed. "Turns out, she's got way more grit than I ever guessed. I busted her in the mouth, and instead of crying foul, she fought dirty. Hovered over my head, waited for me to see her, and broke my nose when I looked up."

"Hera's _hem_," Donna muttered, frowning.

"Yeah. That's the exact moment I started wanting to bang her like a screen door in a hurricane," Jay said. "The two things, wanting to protect her and wanting her, have gone on pretty much parallel ever since. Doesn't hurt that she has a helluva mouth on her. She'll zing me back in a heartbeat."

Donna, however, had fastened onto the first part of that, her eyes horrified. "Jay, what … _where_ did you come up with that horrifyingly evocative turn of phrase?"

"The internet," he laughed. "Donna, what do you _want_? What's the point in asking about our relationship?"

"I want to apologize to her," Donna replied. "And I want to make sure she understands I mean it. I'd also like to be on good terms with _you_."

"Why? What does it matter if you're on my good side?" Jay asked, tilting his head.

"It's not about being on your _good_ side. It's about being able to talk to you. Being able to be friends. Knowing I can trust you, and you can trust me." Donna spoke as if those were simple things, not deeply fraught decisions.

"Donna, come on. You don't have to apologize to me or anything. We're okay," Jay said. And he would much rather be nebulously 'okay' than dig out all their past problems and try to solve them.

"You're still not comfortable with me being here," Donna pointed out.

"Shit, I'm still not comfortable being here myself," he admitted. "Staying in my old room, with Alfred putting all my favorites on the menu? It's like … going back in time. I haven't even really _celebrated_ Christmas since I died, and now I'm here. Also I have to buy presents for my girlfriend's parents, and _that's_ just fucking weird. Never really had to deal with anyone's _family_ before."

Donna picked up the last fork and dried it, smiling. "Well, I'm going to enjoy the mental image of you shopping for my sister. Or for Slade."

"Slade's easy. I know what to get him. A nice big pipe bomb, loaded with shrapnel." Jay grinned at the thought. Rose might be pissed, at first, but it was the best thing for her. Hell, he could even duplicate gifts and send a pipe bomb to Ra's al Ghul, too. _That_ bastard needed to die, and then he could ask Kala for the name of a good therapist for both surviving daughters.

Too bad he knew it wouldn't be that easy.

Donna was looking at him seriously. "Dick knows Lois and Clark. So do I, but not as well. I do know her brother, though. Do you … would you want to go on a shopping trip? With us along to advise you?"

"Dick would just give me grief for not getting them anything yet," Jay said. "Also Dick would probably just wrap himself up, write 'Adopt Me' on the ribbon, and flop down under the tree."

She couldn't help laughing at that. "I've heard Lois say that they should've adopted _all_ of you. Which I suppose you have to be grateful she didn't, or it would make things very awkward with Kala."

Somewhere in the depths of his brain, Jay's thirteen-year-old self sniggered. For adopted siblings, or step-siblings, it was up to _them_ how they related to one another. And for Jay, he hadn't been _raised_ with any siblings. He might call Dick and Tim his brothers, but his relationship with both of them was more teammates than actual relatives. His initial reaction to Dick – handsome, charming, kind Dick – had _definitely_ not been brotherly.

"I would've learned to shoot sooner," Jay said idly. With the dishes clean and dried and put away as they talked, he had some free time. And Donna's offer did actually make sense. "You serious? About going shopping?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. "Jay … you _know_ I don't play games like that."

"No, you just ask a lot of leading questions to get a read on the situation," he replied, feeling better about the whole thing now that he realized what she'd been up to.

Donna folded her arms, but she was smiling. "Are we going shopping, or not?"

"I'm driving," was his answer.

If anyone in the Manor thought it odd that Jay and his ex were going out at the same time, nothing was said of it. The only person who _would_ have commented was Dick, who'd already been told that Donna intended to have a conversation with Jay and clear the air between them.

…

Elsewhere in the Manor, Roy was watching indulgently over Lian. The main house had a gym room that was expansively furnished by any normal standards, and woefully inadequate compared to the workout space in the Cave below. Roy hadn't been invited to that, though. So he'd come in here to get in a few reps, and let Lian burn off some of her boundless energy. He wouldn't let her use anything heavier than a two-pound barbell, and she'd gotten creative, inventing ways to challenge herself. Just now she was standing on an exercise ball, with a barbell in each fist, apparently trying to do some yoga poses. Having to maintain her balance and hold the weights was enough of a contest to wholly absorb her attention.

Roy was close enough to catch her if she faltered. He didn't think she would need his help, but he was there anyway.

The door opened, and Dick and Dinah both strolled in, teasing each other about whose workout routine was more strenuous. Roy gave them both a nod, and they both returned it, Dinah strolling over to the weights. She glanced at Lian, who was trying to balance on one foot, and shook her head in amusement. Dick went for the high bar, of course, climbing it gracefully and turning around to hang by the backs of his knees. Roy smirked at that; you got used to talking to Dick upside-down, after a while. Or sideways, or crosswise. He had so much acrobatic grace and parkour skill that he could move through any given space in unexpected ways.

Lian was wobbling badly, her face a scowl of concentration, and Roy asked, "You okay there, squeaker?"

"Uh-huh," Lian answered, and finally lost her balance.

Roy caught her, of course, and she scowled at that. Given the choice, Lian would rather fall hard and get back up again, but Roy found that his fatherly instincts couldn't allow that. He'd let her fall – it was the only way to learn, sometimes, as he very well knew – but he had to cushion her landing.

"That's enough balancing for a while," Roy said gently.

"Wanna learn some trapeze catches?" Dick asked, still hanging upside down.

"Sure!" Lian chirped, her eyes brightening. Roy stacked up some step blocks to get the height, and let Lian clamber up them to leap into Dick's waiting arms. Dick showed her how to grip tight, and swung back and forth upside-down from the bar, Lian dangling like a pendulum and giggling.

Roy knew he could trust them both – Lian not to do anything _too_ crazy, and Dick not to let her get hurt. So he sat down by Dinah, who was doing leg presses, and racked weights for bicep curls. "I've been thinking," he began.

"Always dangerous," Dinah said, smirking.

Roy put on a very fake scowl, then went back to talking normally. "I kinda like the whole team thing. Having backup is nice, and so is having friends who know what you're going through."

"I thought you had that, with the Titans," Dinah said. Not judging, she'd never do that – Dinah had seen him at his worst and had only compassion for him. Which Roy appreciated more than he could ever express.

"Sort of. But the younger set looks up to me as a mentor. It's not like it was. I'm more like a teacher than part of the class. Plus, everyone I came up with is either going solo, or running with their legacies." Roy had put enough weight on the machine that he had to focus on what he was doing.

Dinah nodded thoughtfully, resting between sets. "So you want an invite to the JLA?"

Roy laughed so hard he almost dropped the weight awkwardly. "Hell no, that feels like getting above myself. Besides, then I have to see Ollie all the time. And don't get me wrong, we've mostly gotten past that, but Ollie…"

"Is Ollie," Dinah said wryly. "I know. Although he _is_ busy with Connor and Mia, and he might appreciate the help."

"He wouldn't appreciate me questioning his methods. No, I'm not gonna go home and pretend I still fit in that quiver, either." Roy sighed, and worked through a set of reps until he could feel the warmth in his muscles.

Lian shrieked in delight; Dick had been swinging back and forth, and let her go at the top of one swing. She grabbed the low bar on her way down, giggling, and pulled herself up on top of it. "Uncle Dick says I can join the circus!" she crowed.

"Uncle Dick technically owns a circus," Roy said, smiling. "You want to hire us both? A trick shot archer and an apprentice trapeze artist?"

Dick swung himself up on top of the bar. "No, I don't make the hiring decisions. I'm not _there_ often enough – silent owner, really. I just help out with the money. But I did have an idea."

"Oh no, both of you having ideas? That's _really_ dangerous," Dinah teased.

"Yeah, now if you start thinking, too, we'll either take over the world or destroy it," Dick replied with a wink. "Seriously, though, Roy. You could start your own team. There are other heroes out there working solo who might want to join up. The JLA is kind of intimidating – no offense, Dinah, but you've got the founding trinity there. And J'onn, Arthur, Hal, Wally, and the rest. That's kind of scary company to keep. I can understand why a lot of people don't think they're ready to sit at a table with all of them."

"It wouldn't bother _you_," Roy pointed out.

"It doesn't bother Wally, either," Dick said. "He's been the Flash since Barry retired. Maybe if he'd taken another name, or Barry was still on the team, he wouldn't feel right about being there." Lian chose that moment to jump to him, and he dropped back and caught her with a thoughtless, effortless grace that Roy couldn't help but envy.

With Lian dangling from his forearms like some kind of spider monkey, Dick said, "I was the first leader of the Teen Titans. I was the first of us to go solo and break out of my family legacy. I've filled Bruce's seat at the JLA table before, temporarily. I could do it again, but not full-time, I don't think."

"Yeah, you've proven yourself about five times over," Roy replied.

"That's not the point. You don't have to prove yourself to _them_. You have to prove it to _yourself_. And I used up a lifetime of self-doubt just running the Titans."

"We never realized that," Roy told him.

"I like the idea, honestly," Dinah said. "Roy, we know you're a good teacher. You'd make a good leader, too. And if you build your own team, you can hand-pick the personalities that work best for you."

"There's a couple of Titans who might like to go out on their own," Dick added. "And a few other people who work solo, or out of their own city, who might like to team up."

"I've got to think about it some more," Roy said, but it _did_ sound like a good idea.

…

Warm with an hour's-worth of concentrated solar comfort, her backpack over her shoulder, Kala unlocked the door and gratefully stepped into her house, resisting the urge to call out a greeting. No matter. It had been months since she had been home, except for the brief stop-over to grab her dress for the charity ball. Oh, the relief of finally being somewhere that belonged to _her_, all of it set to her standards and needs entirely. Where she could just be herself for five seconds. The faint sweet and spicy scent from the diffusers that marked this space as hers soothed her, but the quiet didn't. There had been no instant call of her name the same as she had stopped herself from calling out; as much as she tried to ignore it, that unnerved her. But what harm was there in that? He had not been in the house before; she hadn't minded it one bit. That said, she stood in the foyer just listening for a long moment. Everything was just _slightly_ different from the last time she'd seen it, in September. The refrigerator hummed, ceiling fans turned, but no footsteps or human sounds broke the silence. And that seemed suddenly so very wrong.

Yes, _her_ house, but it felt off, now. Empty in more than the practical sense, the glass house bigger than it usually felt. After a moment, Kala made an frustrated sound of derision. This was ridiculous; she was barely in the door of a home she'd co-owned for three years, a place she had planned from the ground up, and here she was having vapors over something as simple as seeing artwork Sebast picked out in the hallway from the kitchen to the bedrooms. _It's your house, too. Stop being silly. _Shaking herself, Kala carried her bag up the sunlit passage, determined to get herself settled. She'd waited months for this and, Sebast or no Sebast, she would not squander this time.

Reaching the door to the master bedroom first, her steps slowed involuntarily. Obstacle Number One. Once upon a time, there would have been no hesitation whatsoever in opening the door and instantly flinging herself onto the king-sized bed, luxuriating in the certain acknowledge of not needing to be anywhere for the first couple of days, finally able to stretch out and relax. Food could be ordered and delivered, one needing only to answer the door on arrival. Absolute relaxation completely fit the bill.

With Sebast beside her, of course, both of them dead to the world the minute their heads hit the pillow, their bags dumped by the closet. Usually they'd take a nap on getting home, wake up in time for a late supper, then unpack and get settled in the morning. And routine, what routine? It always sucked once they were back on the road, but as soon as they were free, both of them reverted to the nighttime creatures they were. They kept their own hours when family didn't call.

Not this time. Shaking the thoughts away once again, Kala stopped with her hand on the doorknob, then clenched her jaw and swung the door open. No being frightened of ghosts you made yourself. You were a grown adult, you made decisions. And then you paid the consequences for it. She could do this.

The master bedroom was clean, neat, and hadn't been used since she'd put on the Snow Queen costume months ago. No dust, because they had a good cleaning service, but the air smelled stale. Lonely. Kala stepped in cautiously, looking around as if it wasn't her own room, and everywhere was some reminder of better days.

The vanity where she sat doing her makeup, listening to Sebast humming in the master bath as he shaved. The stylized painting of a barn owl on a dictionary page, framed and hanging above the dresser, which Sebast had gotten her for Christmas one year. Sebast's best dress shoes placed neatly by his closet, and one of his jackets hung over the door. The soft plush throw across the foot of the bed, that she snuggled up in and he nuzzled against.

Her stomach plummeted. Why hadn't she considered her own reaction? As much as her pride, her need to prove she could do it reared, Kala had to admit that she would find no rest in this room. Especially not tonight. Maybe in a few days, but it was still too soon. Feeling a fool, she turned smartly and headed for the guest bedroom that usually belonged to Ned, only to find it worse.

The comforter was just slightly rumpled, the pillow indented, and a handful of change was scattered across the nightstand. The air in here wasn't stale, but it held a hint of cologne. The Issue 47 she had bought him the last two Christmases, which he had loved enough to give up the somewhat-similar Armani Code for. That one caught her by surprise, the intensity of loss too sudden. Her chest was suddenly tight, Kala feeling almost nauseous with homesickness – and how ironic that she _was_ home. But she could make herself get past the fact that Sebast wasn't here, only these reminders of him.

It honestly shouldn't have startled her that he'd taken this room. If she was haunted, wouldn't he have been, too? Angry or not, it was just too close, too real, being in a place that had been so intimate for both of them. He most likely would've thought she'd sleep in the master bedroom, that by taking the guest he was leaving the larger and more familiar room for her. But now she couldn't sleep in either room.

There was another option, she realized then. Luckily they'd long since converted the living room to another potential bedroom, to have space for Robb when he came over. Kala went back down there. It was a little too open to the kitchen, for her taste, but Ned snored so he got the guestroom with a door on it. Robb had never minded, since he technically got a larger room out of the deal, even if there was less privacy.

Kala dropped her bag by the bed with a heavy sigh. Robb was going to want more privacy, now, with Jennifer to consider. They might end up adding a wall and a door – the floor plan had originally been more open-concept. If, after all, they did actually manage to keep the house. The way things looked now, maybe she'd turn the master suite over to Robb and just settle in down here. With her senses and speed, Kala could at least be certain not to get caught semi-dressed and they had installed a huge hanging drape to cordon off that section of the house. It had always suited Robb just fine.

There was a TV in the living room, still, along with the three game systems, and when Robb wasn't in residence the folded-up sleeper sofa was where Kala had watched plenty of absolutely dreadful horror films. Feeling out-of-sorts, Kala considered that; it wasn't exactly as if there was anywhere she had to be and it was still mid-afternoon. Maybe watching some cheesy B-grader would take her mind off of things. She found the remote on the side table and turned it on, planning to find some utter train-wreck of a film to take her mind off everything. Movie gore no longer scared her, especially the low-end variety; she wasn't up for _Saw_-level realness at the moment, but she'd seen too much of the real thing in Gotham to quail from it anymore.

But when the screen lit up, it was on one of the Spanish channels, and Kala's heart clenched again. Goddammit, that was a low-blow. Sebast would watch telenovelas sometimes and talk to the screen the whole time, watching them even though he claimed to find the plotlines ridiculous, but it reminded him of staying home sick from school. His grandmother would bundle him up, rub Vicks on his chest, make him chicken soup, and settle him on the couch where she could keep an eye on him while Abuela watched her 'Stories'. Whenever Sebast needed to feel cared for, he watched daytime TV.

With an aggravated growl, Kala turned it off. Yeah, enough of this. If he was going to linger here and haunt, she needed a way to deal with this. With that thought, Kala headed into the kitchen instead, to make herself a drink. They had mint in a window box, they usually had lime juice and Sprite in the fridge for various uses, good Puerto Rican rum in the cabinet. To hell with it; a bastardized mojito sounded delicious right now.

Except even in the kitchen, she couldn't escape the reminders. The good cast iron pan was on the stove, meaning Sebast had made himself breakfast before he left. Kala opened the fridge and saw that he'd stocked them up, milk and eggs and cheese and salad and yogurt, another pang in her chest as she realized that Jay's fridge was probably almost empty by now. She hadn't stopped in to replenish his staples, but Sebast had left enough for her.

Closing the fridge, feeling haunted by someone who was still very much alive, Kala's gaze went to the sink. In the dish drainer beside it, there was only a single mug. He would've put away everything else, but Sebast lingered over his coffee. He likely hadn't even finished it before it was time to leave.

Standing over the sink, Kala could smell, very faintly, a trace of his cologne. And a stronger whiff of coffee that had gone down the drain hours ago.

She picked up the mug, and saw that it was his favorite, one she'd bought for his birthday three years ago. The side read, 'El chupacabra cree en _ti_,' which meant 'The chupacabra believes in _you_,' and beside the slogan was the grinning, fanged, spiky reptilian monster itself.

That hurt, the tide of longing she felt on seeing the silly damn mug. _Why_ did this have to fucking hurt so much? Just coming home, just feeling the lack of his presence here, even as reminders loomed everywhere.

Sebast had washed the mug thoroughly, she could smell the detergent, but nonetheless Kala picked it up and pressed her lips against its cool ceramic side. The stinging in her eyes felt like a betrayal of Jay, somehow, as if she shouldn't miss Sebast this much. But Kala couldn't help feeling horribly alone.


	24. It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like

**Authors' Note:** Dear readers, we find ourselves caught between personal health issues, demanding job woes, and frustrating car repairs, with little time to write. Based on the reviews and hit counts, most of you are busy, too. So we hope you'll forgive us for taking a two-week break to get the next couple chapters properly filled out, and start working on the big set-pieces in earnest.

We will be back on March 15th, and hope to see you here, too!

Also - **warning** for violence in the final scene of this chapter.

* * *

Holly Robinson was in the middle of her online networking course – always have a backup plan, Selina had told her – when someone knocked on the door. Holly listened carefully; if it had been 'shave and a haircut', she would've bailed out the window and run for it.

Instead, it was Morse code. Long, short, long, pause, short, short, pause, long. Which meant Selina needed to talk to her, at one level of urgency down from just picking the lock and strolling in. Hell, Selina owned the building. She could've just had a key made, but letting Holly have privacy and independence was important to her.

Holly opened the door, and an old phrase from her childhood came to mind. 'Nervous as a long-tailed cat in a rocking chair factory.' That certainly described Selina just now. "What's wrong?" Holly asked, holding the door open for her.

Selina sighed, stepping into the apartment. "Holly, you're going to have to check into a hotel or a B&B out of town for a while," she said, wincing as the words left her mouth.

"Why? What happened? Who's after you?" That was the only possible reason Selina could have for asking her to leave. They'd known each other too long for anything else.

"It's Joker," Selina said. "He's after Harley since she kicked his ass. You know I robbed a bank with Harley and Ivy. Well, Joker probably knows it too. He just firebombed the arboretum, trying to draw Ivy out, and that didn't work. Sooner or later, he's gonna come hunting me to see if I know where they are. Or maybe just to see how many ways there are to skin a cat. Anyone who helped Harley is in danger, and anyone those people care about is a potential target."

Holly shivered. Of all of the psychos out there in the city – most of whom she was happy to avoid – Joker was the absolute worst. "Does he know how to find you?"

"I'm sure there are two or three people in the city who can point him this way. He might pay for the information, or he might just start pulling out fingernails. I've got plans for everybody else in this building, but you? I need you all the way out of Gotham. If Joker gets his hands on you, I'll have to come to him." Selina was standing with her arms crossed, holding her elbows tightly.

Holly understood her perfectly. She'd only been thirteen when she'd met this amazing, impossible woman. Selina had shown up out of nowhere and beaten the crap out of Holly's pimp, then taken her under her wing and gotten her off the streets and clean. Sure, there was an element of hero-worship there, and yeah, attraction played its part too. Underneath it all was the friendship they'd built. Holly and Selina had been through a lot over the years, of which the whole Catwoman thing was the least surprising. It was strange and worrisome to see Selina nervous about _anything_, and even worse to realize that Holly herself was a weakness.

"I've always wanted to see Metropolis," Holly said easily, leaving all the intense emotion out of it for now.

Selina wrapped her up in a relieved hug. "I've got some friends there, I can hook you up."

"Ooh, do I get to meet Superman?" Holly asked brightly. When things got dark, Selina always forced herself to keep _something_ light. If she let Gotham depress her, she'd said, it would crush the life out of her.

"Maybe. We'll see." Selina leaned back, smiling fondly at her. "I've got short-term housing lined up for everyone else; the official story is going to be that there's black mold in the building and no one can be here during remediation. Thank God I left three floors empty, that's already a lot of people to move."

"Smart," Holly said, squeezing her tight. Then she stepped back, taking hold of Selina's shoulders. "What are you going to do about _you_? And all the cats?"

Selina smirked. "Don't worry, I've got that handled. I'm damn sure not going to be here if Joker comes calling. Although, I could use your help getting everyone in carriers."

"Good, and of course I'll help," Holly said. She understood that Selina didn't want to tell her where she'd be.

She could guess, anyway. How many people in town had room for that many cats?

…

Red Hood had laid down the law; none of the kids were going into shared studio apartments. Everybody had to have their own bedroom with a lock on the door, at minimum. And that was more of a concern with Julio and Carl than the rest.

Julio understood that, annoying as it was to have a bunch of adults all worrying about what they did. He'd been living with Carl and the rest for months, even before Big Tommy showed up and turned their lives upside down. You'd think if Carl never turned up pregnant then, with zero supervision and plenty of reason to try to ingratiate himself, it wouldn't be a problem now.

Whatever, they each had their own room, with a bathroom between them, and a little combined sitting area and kitchenette sort of deal. It was kind of nice, really, and in Metropolis, which made Julio wonder who was paying for it and how much it cost. The area was only mildly sketchy, by their standards; a series of apartments over a bakery downtown. The kind of place where you had to lock up your bike, but not your trash can.

The other residents were a mix of older folks who'd been there since forever, young couples with no kids trying to save money, and a few loners. No one creepy, at least not that Julio had seen, but he kept to himself for the most part. Carl talked to a few of them at the mailboxes or the coin laundry half a block away.

So far no one seemed to make any assumptions about what Carl and Julio were to each other, which was fine, because Julio wasn't making any assumptions either. He didn't lock his bedroom door, though, because at least two or three nights a week Carl would sneak in, curl up at his back, and sleep there until a few minutes before his alarm went off, then tiptoe out. Julio figured it had to be nightmares or something, and pretended he didn't wake up every time the door opened.

A good life. A sane life, one with a future. No more worrying about crazy costumed villains; sure, Metropolis had its dangers, but Intergang was nothing like Black Mask or Two-Face or Joker. Julio was just starting to relax, and make plans further in advance than the next week or next month. He would be starting welding school soon, and he was a little nervous about it. But the sooner he had his own legit money coming in, the better.

Dinah Lance – and holy shit, the chick bringing them pizzas turned out to be _Black Canary_, the chairwoman of the freaking _Justice League of America _– had walked him through the paperwork to become an emancipated minor. It entailed showing an income, which apparently all the kids' expenses were being paid through a grant by Wayne Industries and that was sufficient. His own family had plenty of issues already, they hadn't bothered to show up for the hearing. Neither had Carl's.

That wasn't news. They were on their own, with only each other and a few lucky friends in high places to rely on.

Carl burst through the front door in the middle of Julio's studying, dropped his bookbag in the hallway, and called out, "I got an A in English!"

"Awesome!" Julio called back. "Should I thank that cute girl tutoring you?"

Carl blew a raspberry as he came into the dining room and threw his arms around Julio's neck. "Michelle Troupe _is_ seriously cute. But she's going to college for _journalism_. Who ever does that anymore?"

"Someone must, there's still that huge building downtown with the globe on it," Julio said. "What about the rest of your classes?"

Carl paused. "Mostly Bs," he admitted. "Um, except … I got a C-minus in World History. It's _boring_."

"Maybe we'll get Red Hood to find another cute girl to tutor you in history, too," Julio teased gently. Carl was still sensitive about his grades; he'd missed over a year of school, and hadn't been doing too well before that. Julio was glad to be out of all of it with his GED, but at barely fourteen, Carl could still pull off a traditional diploma if he worked at it.

Carl stiffened a little at the joke, and pulled away. "Yeah, you just want Red Hood to find me a tutor who's a hot single girl."

Julio sighed and rolled his eyes. "There's hot single girls all over this town. At least, I get emails about them in my spam folder all the time. But fine, if it helps you concentrate, we'll tell him to find you a hot guy to teach history."

Standing behind him, Carl's voice was muffled, but it sounded like he said something about already having a hot guy. And again, Julio wasn't gonna acknowledge that.

Instead he turned around and spoke seriously. "Look, Carl, you're doing fine. You've got the brains for this, you just need a little help to catch up on what you missed. Nothing wrong with that. Now see, this Michelle chick made English fun 'cause she got you reading those sci-fi novels. We just gotta figure out how to make history fun, too."

Carl made _such_ a face at that. "You could bring strippers into class and _still_ not make history fun. Ugh. So boring."

Julio was about to make some kind of reply when they both heard a knock at the door. Even now, even as accustomed as they'd become to having stability and security in their lives, they both reacted the same way to that unexpected knock.

Swiftly, soundlessly, Julio and Carl both got up and retreated to Julio's bedroom. He kept a baseball bat behind the door, and snatched it up. Carl had his phone out, and grabbed the chair, ready to slide it under the doorknob and barricade them in.

The knock sounded again, and they both listened silently. Julio tried to tell himself that no one knew they were in Metropolis. No one was coming after them. Joker didn't even have people in this city, and he wouldn't go this far just for a couple of homeless kids – nobodies, in the grand scheme of things. It was nothing, probably just someone lost and knocking on the wrong door. Or someone in the building trying to sell overpriced makeup or leggings to all their neighbors. It was probably nothing.

Julio's heart still raced. There was a chance, however small, that it might _not_ be nothing.

Carl's phone chirped in his hand. They both looked down with trepidation, and saw a text message. _Blur sent me. Is this Carl? I have packages for you._

"Yeah, but who is 'I'?" Julio muttered.

Carl tapped out the question, and a moment later the answer came in the form of a photo … of a _press pass_? The photo was a silver-haired woman with bright hazel eyes and a wicked smirk, and the name below it… "Lois Lane, Daily Planet?" Carl said, his voice rising. "Oh, _shit!_"

"Yeah, I guess we can let her in," Julio said, putting the bat down.

He still peered through the peephole before opening the door warily.

Lois Lane – for that was the woman standing on the doorstep, with two big bags in Christmas colors beside her – nodded at him. "Good kids. Stay smart, stay wary. Even in my town, a little paranoia can't hurt."

"Um, hi," Carl said, his voicing spiking high. "You're … you're really _Lois Lane_. Like Superman's Lois Lane."

"I haven't been Superman's Lois Lane for a while," she said with a slight grin. "He's still my story, though."

"That's … that's what I meant," Carl said hurriedly. "I didn't mean like, y'know, uh…"

Julio sighed and put a hand on Carl's shoulder. "Sorry, we don't meet many celebrities."

She cocked a dark eyebrow at them. "No? Dinah said you two were the steady ones out of the lot. Mind if I come in for a minute? I've got your Christmas presents, but you can open them early if you want."

"You got what?" Carl squeaked.

"Christmas presents. Courtesy of Blur. I'm sure Dinah and Hood and the rest will send something, but Blur's got an inside scoop to the Supers, so I get to be the delivery girl. Trust me, I'm gonna demand payback." When Julio stood back and held the door open, she stepped into the hallway, handing him one bag and passing the other to Carl. "Have you had dinner yet? I'm getting Maggiano's delivered."

"Nah, we haven't eaten yet. That's cool, thanks," Julio said. He tried to peek into his bag without making it obvious.

Carl was trying and failing to do the same. "So, um, you know Blur and Black Canary? Do you know Red Hood, too?" he asked Lois.

She grinned. "Of course I do. He's a smartass little brat, but he turned out okay in the end, I suppose. At least, if he's looking after you guys."

Julio just stared at her, the same way Carl was. She _looked_ like a well-put-together woman of a certain age, professional, intelligent, competent. And they _knew_ she was Lois Lane, a hard-hitting investigative reporter who'd broken many of the top stories of the last couple decades. But hearing _anyone_ describe Red Hood as a _smartass little brat_, well … that casual comment put her into a whole other plane of existence.

She saw their faces, and laughed. "Guys, c'mon. I know I probably look like an old lady to you…"

"Nah, you're not old," Julio said quickly, because he'd had enough women over 30 in his family to know how touchy they could get about age.

Lois rolled on without acknowledging the protest. "But one of the nice things about getting old is you remember who some of these big scary guys were when they weren't so big or scary. Hell, I've known Red Hood since he was in short pants. Hard to be afraid of someone you've known that long."

Carl glanced at Julio quickly. Short pants – they'd heard rumors that Red Hood had been the second Robin, the same way pretty much everyone knew Nightwing had been the first one. Apparently that was true, and they had some internet searching in their future.

"We're not that scared of him either," Carl said, looking back at Lois. "I mean, he was never anything but nice to us."

She shrugged. "Of course. You're not drug dealers, or killers. You don't beat up women or kids. And you're not Batman, so he's got no reason to come after you. There's a lot of scary people out there with scary reputations, and some of them have really earned it. But a lot of them – even some of the most dangerous – won't bother you because of what you are. Red Hood is one of the most highly-trained killers around, but he doesn't target noncombatants. Fear's healthy, don't get cocky and think you can mess with some of these psychos like you've got some kind of Get Out of Murder Free card, because you don't. I've been around long enough to know which of the gray-area ones have a line they won't cross."

Julio nodded understanding. "Betcha you've seen a lot."

Lois laughed at that. "Oh, you have _no_ idea. Now as for Hood and me, nobody in the business is dumb enough to think I'm a noncombatant. But we're good. I talked a little trash about his choice of guns, and he still hasn't taken me up on going to the range to have that argument. Maybe if he's lucky that's what I'll give him for Christmas."

Carl chuckled, smirking at Julio. To think that Superman's chronicler knew Red Hood well enough to be cracking jokes about gifts – this really was a whole other world, one they'd barely dipped their toes into. And Julio preferred, on the whole, to stay _out_ of it.

A thought struck Lois then. "All of you kids are gonna be alone on Christmas."

"We have each other," Carl said staunchly.

"Have either of you ever roasted a turkey before?" Lois asked, and when they both looked clueless, she shook her head. "Nope. No one should be eating microwave dinners on Christmas Day. I'm going to be out of state for the holiday, but I'll figure something out. For you two, and the other kids in Gotham. My husband is a damn fine cook, and I bake a mean pumpkin pie."

"You don't have to," Julio said awkwardly.

Lois just smiled. "Yeah, I do. My own kids are pretty much out of the house. Let me be a stereotypical empty-nester here. You kids have had some hard luck, it's about time some good luck headed your way. Besides, I've got a big family, they won't mind contributing a bit to make sure you have a good Christmas. Hell, you already met my niece."

"Your niece?" Julio asked.

"Michelle Troupe is my sister's youngest daughter. We've got to plan for her birthday, too – she was born on Christmas Eve. _Only_ my sister could have timing that bad." Lois sighed, and then looked at both of them again. "I've got to head out – food's on its way, and I already tipped the driver. Oh, and the gifts?"

"Yeah?" Carl asked, with the half-sad and half-hopeful tone of someone expecting to be told not to open them until Christmas Day.

Lois just smirked. "Blur said not to tell Hood what she got you."

With that, she took herself out – and with no prohibition against it, Carl and Julio immediately tore into the bags.

The first thing Julio spotted was the biggest box in his, and he yelped. "Holy shit, she got me an X-Box!"

"Me too!" Carl exclaimed. "And hair dye! She got the ones we talked about, After Midnight and Electric Lizard, _plus_ Vampire Red! _Nice!_"

With a console apiece and a selection of games, as well as gift cards to get more, both of them were ready to proclaim this the best Christmas of their lives.

Little did they know that a group of dedicated people in both Gotham and Metropolis were working to make sure they added 'so far' to that statement.

…

Dick was just contemplating a second bowl of cereal when Selina walked in from the garage. "I need your help," she told him. "And anybody else who's home."

"What's wrong?" Dick replied immediately, standing up.

Selina passed him, and he realized she held a small wire-fronted carrier in each hand. "Well, sooner or later Joker's going to realize I helped Harley rob that bank, and he'll probably think I know how to find her. Which, before you ask, I _don't_. Anyway, everyone knows where to look for me, so I can't be there. And this is the most secure place in town."

Dick just stared for a moment, then scrambling to his feet after her. "Wait – you're moving in? Does Bruce know?!"

She laughed at him, putting the carriers down in the dining room. One of them meowed, and Dick began to get a bad feeling about this. "Of course he knows. I did _ask_. He even helped me get everyone in my building into temporary housing – I'm not going to have any collateral damage out of this. Holly's in Metropolis. So it's just me, and if Joker wants to skin _this_ cat, he's gotta come through Manor security, all of you, and deadliest of all, Alfred."

Alfred had just stepped into the room, and eyed the carriers nervously. "I beg your pardon, Miss Kyle, Master Bruce neglected to inform me that you would be bringing additional guests."

"Well I can't _leave_ them there," Selina said. "And there's no place in town that will board this many cats on short notice. Don't worry, after I have a word with them, they'll all go outdoors to do their business. I wouldn't put you on litter box duty. You deal with enough bullshit from these men, I'm not making you clean up any more. Although, you _might_ want to move the more breakable ornaments higher up on the tree."

Dick and Alfred shared a horrified look. "How many cats do you _have,_ Selina?" Dick asked carefully.

"I didn't count," she said breezily. "But there are nineteen carriers, and I'd appreciate your help unloading. I've got to have the Traverse back in two hours."

"You rented an SUV to move?" Dick asked.

"No, of course not," Selina laughed. "I borrowed it. And if it's not back where I found it in time, the owner will report it stolen. Now help me, would you? Some of the carriers are pretty big. Plus I've got some luggage."

Alfred closed his eyes on a sigh. Dick just groaned. "Alfred, would you get Bruce and Tim and Jay? I'll start helping Selina. Sounds like this is gonna be a team effort."

Dick followed Selina out to the garage, where the entire back of the large SUV was taken up by crates. And two of them were _dog_-sized. "Did you bring a leopard?" he asked nervously.

"Come _on_. Don't be so dramatic, Dick. I wouldn't keep a leopard in an apartment; that would be cruel." Selina rolled her eyes and grabbed two more carriers, heading back to the house. Picking up one of them, Dick peered through the wire. He couldn't see anything except a pair of golden eyes, and then something inside hissed at him. "Okay, never mind," he muttered, grabbing a second carrier.

By the time Dick set down his burden in the parlor, Bruce had turned up, frowning. "I said you could stay here," he was telling Selina. "I thought most of the cats weren't actually yours."

"Well, yes and no," she said with a shrug. "In the legal sense, they're all mine. I feed them, I make sure they're neutered and have their shots. But about half of these are feral, in the sense that you can't pet them, and they don't belong to anyone but themselves. The ones that are tame, you'll know because they'll be in your lap."

Bruce sighed. "Selina."

"I can't leave them there, Bruce," she insisted. "What if he shows up looking for me? And finds them? Most of the people in this town know better, but Joker has no limits. And if he hurts one of my cats, I'm going to blow his damn head off." Dick could swear her eyes gleamed as she said it, and he knew enough about cats to know that if she'd actually been one, she would've been arching her back and fluffing her tail, her claws out ready to strike.

"I would never have told you to leave them," Bruce said gently. "I would've appreciated some advance notice, though. We could've adjusted the decorations to be a little safer."

She looked around, seeing all the tempting ribbon and garland, and relaxed, her hackles going down. "Yeah, okay. I see that. I'm sorry, Bruce. I just … better to ask forgiveness than permission, right?"

"You're forgiven," he said, and Dick smiled. Tim walked up then, looking at him curiously, and Dick put the carriers he held down with a shrug.

Miss Kitty chose that moment to stroll by, hopping up onto one of the carriers nonchalantly. Jay had also arrived, and he snorted in amusement. "You're already releasing them so they'll be impossible to catch, right?"

"Oh, no," Selina replied quickly. "Miss Kitty doesn't do well with restraint of any kind. The vet does house calls, for her. But she goes where I go. I need to explain things to all of these before I turn them loose." With that she was gone again, heading back to the Traverse for another pair of carriers. Alfred had gone out while they talked, and returned with a put-upon expression and two carriers.

Jay looked at the Dick, and shrugged. "What the hell. Let's get Donna and Roy in on it, too. Call 'em up and tell them both to head back from Clock Tower early, we're gonna have a circus here."

Dick didn't make that call, just walking with Jay back out to the car. Selina smiled brightly at them as she headed in, adding, "One of you will have to get that big carrier. It's got the five sisters in it, and Batty alone is sixteen pounds."

"Jesus fuck," Jay laughed. "There's _five_ in one carrier? How fucking many cats do you have?"

"She hasn't counted, or she won't tell us," Dick said grimly.

Bruce was right behind them, and added, "I wouldn't put it past her to bring every feral in the East End."

"I'd need a lot more than nineteen carriers for that!" Selina called back to them. "But since you mention it…"

"No!" Jay yelled. "Shit, we're gonna end up on fuckin' Hoarders, I just _know_ it."

…

After a night of broken sleep and a breakfast just as haunted by Sebast's absence, not to mention the lack of Christmas decorations, Kala fled her own house for someplace friendlier. All four parents were at work, but the Lane-Kent penthouse had been home to Kala for long enough that she found some peace there even when it was empty of all but the two dogs. And Mom and Dad were sure to have at least put up lights.

She was right, the terrace was trimmed in white lights, the ornamental plants covered in netted multicolored lights. Kala smiled, knowing Lois had argued for the clean look of white lights, while Clark wanted multicolored ones that twinkled. Even when they weren't home, she could feel close to them with just that simple bit of decoration.

Although, it was hard to call a place 'empty' when her arrival on the balcony touched off a burst of baying that made it sound as if a dozen bloodhounds were inside, instead of two small beagles, both already in their ugly Christmas sweaters, clearly Dad's work. "Hi, Bagel, hi, Chewie," Kala called as she unlocked the french doors and let them swarm her feet. "Who's the best girls? You are, yes you are, what _good_ girls."

Chewie sprang up and snapped at the air in delight; it had taken Lois over a year to break her of the funny 'trick' of snatching at someone's scarf, or a lock of hair, while jumping up. Bagel wasn't doing any jumping these days, but she did stand up with her front paws braced on Kala's thigh, whining excitedly as her white-tipped tail lashed back and forth. Kala petted and talked to them both until they settled down enough to run around the terrace, sniffing. Not for the first time, she wondered what they smelled all the way up here. Her nose was keen, another super-sense, but she'd read that dogs experienced the world primarily through scent in a way that informed their entire worldview.

Kala sat in one of the low-slung chairs her father had built, and let her mind drift pleasantly. Metropolis surrounded her, a steady rumble of city-noise. Different from Gotham, or Phoenix, or Seattle, or any of the hundreds of other places she'd been. The faint honking of car horns, the hum of machinery, the snatches of music – mostly Christmas music – on thousands of radios, the million little city-sounds could have been anywhere, but her sensitive ears recognized it as _home_. Perhaps there was something about how the wind moved through the buildings, or how the babble of myriad voices tended toward a typical Metropolis accent.

There were only two other places Kala knew as well: the ephemeral silence of the Fortress, and the endless sighing of the wind across the Kansas plains. She was starting to learn Gotham's pulse the same way, its tense silences and bursts of noise, but she hadn't been there long enough for its rhythms to sink into her soul-deep the way Metropolis and Smallville had. That familiarity would come with time.

Kala found herself wondering if she'd ever be able to share her city with Jay. She'd gone to Hong Kong with him, but hadn't brought him here. Metropolis was a little too bright and clean for a Bowery boy, perhaps. And Smallville … God, he'd be so uncomfortable in Smallville. The slow pace of life there would drive him crazy, the open landscape would have him jumping at every noise, and she didn't even want to imagine what he'd think of the Kent farm. Jay was decidedly a _city_ boy, and the sound of coyotes in the night would unsettle him, sounding like a threat he couldn't predict and prepare for. If the Pelham's cows got loose and turned up to graze in the front yard, he'd probably have an aneurysm.

Her reverie was interrupted when Chewie leaped into her lap, twenty-five pounds of friendly beagle landing right on her navel. "_Oof!_ Easy, Chewie, if it wasn't for invulnerability, you could rupture a spleen."

The younger beagle just licked her face, wagging her tail. Bagel came running over; attention paid to one dog always got some jealousy from the other. Kala stood up before they could both climb into her lap, and lead them inside.

She saw that Christmas decorating was in progress. The tree was up, lit, and decorated with a variety of ornaments they'd all acquired or – in the twins' case – made over the years. The star had been left off, though. By longstanding tradition, Jason and Kala put that on together. When they were little, Dad had held them up to do it. Wrapped gifts stood atop a bookshelf near the tree; nothing could go _under_ it, not with Chewie in the house. There were evergreen swags along the shelves, bound with red and gold ribbons. Kala knew that the kitchen would have themed accessories, from the spoon rest to the glass cutting board to the towels. The only question was whether Lois had decided to put out the reindeer set, the poinsettias, or the nutcrackers.

Like her own house, the apartment was full of the personalities of the people who lived there. Kala saw her mother in the coaster on her side of the sofa, a gift from Aunt Tobie: it was a simple ceramic square with fancy script engraved on it, reading, 'You call me Bitch like it's a bad thing.' On the other side, where her father normally sat, the drink coaster was an uneven circle, with '#1 Dad' inscribed in unsteady letters. Kala had made that one, in fourth grade art class. Jason had made a similar one for Mom that lived on her desk in the study. Mom claimed she needed the serenity more there, where she did most of her work.

Kala smiled softly. She couldn't be jealous about the silly coasters; she and Jason had given Mom a beautiful topaz locket on their sixteenth birthday, and Kala knew she still wore it regularly. She treasured it, honestly.

For a moment, Kala thought of Sebast, in Ponce surrounded by family. Family she knew, family she also loved. Normally, two weeks out from Christmas, she'd be there with him, deep in the jovial craziness that was the Season with his relatives; his mother and grandmother deep in the heart of it with the older women, pulling Kala herself in to play a part as always.

_Maybe not anymore. Maybe never again. _

That brought a sad smile, especially after the last day of a ghost in her house. And _this_ maudlin line of thought wasn't helping. She pushed the thought away with a sigh, and Jay rose to mind, thoughts still on family. _That_ made her bite her lip. The only mother he'd ever known had died by the time he turned thirteen and there had never been another woman to make that gap less empty, not that he had ever told her. As much as Jay would deflected and deny it, in the man he was, she could guess at the little boy he had been. Kala could all too easily imagine him bringing home drawings to hang on the fridge, making a lumpy mug out of clay and painstakingly writing 'Mom' on the side.

If she looked, Mom and Dad – and Daddy Richard and Lana – probably had a lot of her old artwork saved up somewhere. Where had those mementos of Jay's childhood gone? Lost when he had to hit the streets, hauled out with the trash by some landlord more worried about getting a new tenant in the dead woman's apartment than what had happened to her son? Kala fought it, but just the sudden thought was enough to bring tears to her eyes.

Jay would be annoyed with her, if he knew what she was thinking. He didn't want pity, and she couldn't explain how that differed from the compassion she felt. _Not everyone gets a family like yours, that's just life,_ he'd told her before. Jay probably thought pity meant she wanted to _fix_ him somehow, and that set him off. She had never had a chance to find out of that was really why he reacted so badly, or explain that she didn't want to fix _him_. Kala wanted to fix the situation, not him; she wanted to give him someone he could trust and rely on the way he had never really been able to. He gave her so much, he let her figure out who the Blur was in a way no else ever had, who the larger measure of _Kala_ was, and she wanted so badly to do something similar for him. If she could somehow give him some measure of the support she'd always had…

The key turned in the door, startling Kala out of her thoughts and making her smile instantly. She heard her mother's voice first, sharp as ever. "Goddammit, Kent, that was _city's_ story. You had no right to step on my toes!"

"Now, Lois," Dad said soothingly, and Kala had heard this argument a million times since she turned six. It was just what they did; God, it was almost their own brand of particularly obnoxious flirting, not that Mom would always admit to it.

With Jay on her mind, she went to them both and flung herself into her mother's arms. Lois gave a startled _oof_ and hugged her back. "Well hi there, baby girl," she chuckled. "What, nothing left in the fridge?"

Nothing in the world could be quite as comforting as that warm, husky voice, little as Lois wanted others to know. "I love you," Kala said, her voice trembling, and reached out to her father, too. Clark enfolded them both in a hug as Kala just breathed in the sense of _home_. "I love you both so much."

"We missed you, too, munchkin. What brought this on?" Clark asked gently, kissing the top of her head. Kala stood up a bit like she'd had since she was a little girl, pressing into the gesture in happy acknowledgment.

They stayed as they were for a moment, Kala just basking in the warmth as she did in sunlight before shaking her head, pulling back a little to smile at Lois. "Mom? Just for the record, I'm so _glad_ to be your Mini-Me."

The incredulous look on Mom's face was utterly worth it. Lois laughed out loud after pause at that, looking past her at Clark. "Well, _that's_ only taken eight years. Either that, or she's brain-damaged. Taken any hard hits lately, baby?"

About this time, the year she turned sixteen, Kala had been adamant that she would have nothing to do with the world's insistence that she was Lois Lane 2.0, Half the Awesome of the Original. So desperate had she been to avoid it, she had fallen head-first into the madness that followed her to this day. And now, looking back, Kala was grateful to be around for the chance to realize how lucky she was. How lucky they all were. Smirking with her own inherited dose of Lane snark, Kala shrugged nonchalantly, although she knew her eyes shone with shared mischief. "Just a car trying to run me over, but you know. All in a day's work."

Lois shook her head, looking heavenward, and pulled Kala close again. "This crazy damn kid … Kent, I blame you for all of it."

"And you wouldn't change them or give them up for anything," Clark reminded her.

Kala didn't need to look, too busy hugging her mom, to know Lois had just grinned at him for saying it.

…

It took less than half an hour to move all the cats in, and Selina piled her own luggage haphazardly by the door. She set up food and water within sight of the cages, ten large dishes and five separate filtered fountains. There were toys and treats to unpack too, but she wanted them to see the most important things first.

While she arranged things, Jay sat down in one of the parlor chairs to regard the _wall_ of carriers they'd built. Bruce had taken the other chair, looking defeated. Tim and Dick were watching with awe and terror, and Alfred looked on aghast. Jay just shook his head in amazement. "The things you do for love, Bruce."

Bruce tensed, shooting him a look, then said, "Harley Quinn's sister and her family are currently staying in a condominium I own on New Providence in the Bahamas, at Selina's request. Housing twenty cats shouldn't have come as a surprise."

"Oh, there's more than twenty," Selina said, and sat down in front of the leftmost cage, ignoring the dark looks that passed between everyone else. She stuck her fingers into the top cage, and made a low chirruping noise. Miss Kitty hurried over to stand atop that carrier, purring loudly.

From inside the cage came a grumpy-sounding meow, and Selina opened the door. The cat inside was only visible as a gray streak, seeming not to touch the ground between its carrier and the door. Selina worked her way down the row, chirping or meowing or purring or chuffing at each door before releasing the occupant. Jay couldn't decide if she was really talking to them, or if she was just putting on a show.

Some carriers had only one cat, like the first gray and the very round tuxedo who bolted from the next box with a distressed whine. The third carrier had a pair of young cats, a gray tabby and a black kitten, both of whom cased the room, sniffing everyone. The fourth carrier held a big fluffy black. That one stalked out, stared at everyone, and gave a rusty mew. Selina reached into the same carrier and gently withdrew a bigger, fluffier white cat who looked startled to see strangers. "It's okay, Mouse, stick close to the Captain," she murmured, and set her down.

She promptly crawled right back into the carrier, and Selina moved on as Miss Kitty stuck her head in and sniffed at the white cat. Jay saw a few more singletons and pairs, most of the cats choosing to dart out of the room, and then Selina got to one of the two big cages. A huge furry orange and white cat leapt out, followed by a leggy spotted one with a short tail, and both of those cantered off together.

The next carrier was the other big one, and Jay recognized a couple of the cats he'd seen on the roof. "These are the sisters," Selina was saying, as the tiny fluffy one walked right up to Jay and hopped into his lap.

"Aw hell, now I can't get up," he complained, as the cat kneaded his leg and purred.

"Just _pet_ her," Selina scolded, as another tabby with black stripes rubbed against her and trotted to Dick. Before he could react, the cat was standing on his lap with her forepaws against his chest, shoving her face against his jaw.

Dick laughed, and petted her, getting a loud purr in response. Meanwhile Jay noticed the biggest cat in that group had gone right for Bruce and climbed his leg. "Not you again," he said worriedly.

"Oh, Bruce, stop it. Batty won't hurt you," Selina said, then added, "Not on purpose, anyway. She doesn't know her own strength. Pet her, Bruce, she's friendly."

Jay had started to gingerly pet the tiny scrap of fluff perched on his knee, and the cat – Norway, that was her name – arched and twisted until he was scratching under her chin. Meanwhile Bruce started to pet the big cat, and she folded back her ears and complained loudly. He lifted both hands, still looking at the cat named Batty as if she were some alien life form, and she meowed even louder, swiping at his hands. "Selina," he called.

"She yells when you pet her, but she yells louder when you stop. Just keep petting her, she'll chat the whole time. She never shuts up; her father was a Siamese, I think. It's charming when you're used to it."

"She's trying to claw me, Selina," Bruce said, raising his hands out of range. Batty stood on her hind feet and succeeded in sinking her claws into his sleeve, dragging his arm down and rubbing her face extravagantly against his hand.

"She's trying to _grab_ you, Bruce," Selina said, still not turning around. "You stopped petting her. She just wants you to love on her. If you don't pay attention to her, she'll bite your fingers."

"I'd noticed," he said grimly, and Jay couldn't help laughing. He did start petting the cat again, and she made a series of weird _mrrowr_ noises that Jay supposed were what Selina had meant by _chatting_.

Tim had been laughing at them all quietly, until a cat climbed his chair and started sniffing his ear. "Uh, Selina, what's this one doing?"

Selina glanced at him, releasing another single cat, a fluffy calico that ran out of the room. "That's Lydia, she's sweet. She'll let you pet her all day, but she's not fond of being held. And Bolt's around … ah, of course. Alfred, the cat lurking right behind you is Bolt. No one but me can touch her. If she cries and rubs against your leg, just talk to her. She acts like she wants to be picked up and snuggled, but of all of them, she's the only one who'll actually hurt you if you spook her."

Alfred looked down with a sigh, just as another of the black-striped tabbies looked up at him and gave a piteous cry. "Your pardon, Miss Bolt, I do not wish to be clawed to ribbons," he said in dignified tones. Apparently that was the right thing to do, as the cat mewed again and head-butted his leg.

Little Norway was laying on her back in Jay's lap, purring extravagantly as he rubbed her belly. Dick glanced over from the cat licking his chin and frowned. "I thought cats hated having their bellies touched," he said.

"Norway likes it. She's weird. This whole litter is, honestly," Selina said. She let out a rangy marmalade cat, a stocky Siamese-patterned one, and a slim tortoiseshell in short order. Those sniffed at the food, the orange one sitting down to groom her toes.

Eventually all the carriers were open, and Selina stood up, stretching her back. She looked at the guys, and Jay saw her smirk. No wonder; Tim was petting a black cat, Jay himself had another falling asleep in his lap, Dick had a tabby trying to crawl into his shirt, and Bruce was looking more and more confused as Batty chewed enthusiastically on the fingers of one hand while the other petted her.

Bruce looked up at Selina disapprovingly. "I counted thirty-three. I might be off, it's difficult to keep track with this one trying to gnaw pieces off."

"Hey, she's not _really_ biting," Selina argued, not commenting on the accuracy of his estimate. "You see the jaws on her? Batty can go through a raw turkey neck in about ten seconds."

"Jesus Christ," Jay muttered. "I'm glad the nice one picked me."

Selina crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "They're all nice. You wanna see a not-nice cat, try to pick up that solid gray I turned loose first. Hades is at least twelve and he hasn't given a damn in the three years I've known him. I put claw caps on to stop him from drawing blood, so he learned to punch you as hard as he can."

"Nice," Dick said, laughing as the cat that picked him shoved her face into his sleeve.

"Well, since you're all getting along, I'm going to take the car back," Selina said.

"Wait, you can't _seriously_ just leave us with your horde of cats," Tim protested. "What if they all panic and start fighting or something?"

"You guys are supposedly the World's Greatest Detectives, right?" Jay could hear the capitalization there in her tone, one blonde brow arching. "C'mon, it's half an hour; you'll figure it out. Besides, I don't have choice but to leave. You don't want anyone tracking a stolen SUV to this garage, do you? It's _only_ a few cats, boys." Selina gave them all a flippant grin, and went out without giving them any time to argue.

"The car is stolen?" Bruce said faintly. The cat had managed to get most of his index finger into her mouth, and was nibbling at his knuckles. Also drooling a bit.

Tim looked over at Bruce and sighed. "This is all your fault, you know."

"I'm aware," Bruce said resignedly.

"They are kinda cute," Dick said.

"Don't get attached," Jay warned, already wondering what Donna and Roy and Lian would make of the invasion.

Hell, what would _Kala_ think of a horde of cats all over the place? Nah, wait, she liked meerkats, so she liked animals in general. She'd probably think this was cute.

Norway patted his hand with a furry paw, and stretched her head back so he could rub her chin. "Okay, this one _is_ cute," he admitted.

…

Chad Mullins had worked for Two-Face for ten years. He had too many priors on his record to get a straight job most places, and the few jobs that would hire ex-cons involved more physical labor than he really wanted to do. He had muscle, and loyalty, and no conscience to speak of, so he found a home in organized crime. The Falcones and the other big families tended to dress it up a bit too much; they had _jargon_, for fuck's sake. Chad wasn't too keen on kissing anybody's ring, and as an outsider, he'd have a long road to becoming a made man. If ever. He was just cannon fodder for the mobsters, and he was smart enough to see that quick.

So, the masks. A little more dangerous, but a smart guy with a strong stomach could go far. He'd gone to Two-Face, and didn't regret it. The big guy could get a little crazy about the whole coin toss fairness thing. As Chad saw it, life wasn't fair, and it wasn't his job to make it fair. He just did what needed to be done. Some days it was easy, picking up protection money and dropping it off at the vault. Some days it was hard, tracking down a debtor and breaking some bones – the tracking down was the hard part, not the violence. Chad didn't mind that. Besides, some days he got to have a little fun. Some of the debtors had wives or girlfriends, and women were weak. They'd fall in love with a useless sack of shit who got himself into a bad situation, borrowed money he couldn't pay back, and when Chad showed up to even the score sometimes the pretty wife or girlfriend would try to pay their man's debt another way.

He always made the man watch. The whole point was for it to hurt the guy.

On this particular night he'd been headed out to collect from a guy who was hooked on poker. Like, Chad had seen crackheads less addicted than this fool. He'd lost his house and was living in a shitty apartment in the Narrows, barely making ends meet, his wife had left him and his regular income was getting docked for child support, he'd even been arrested once at an illegal game, but the numb fuck was _still_ out there gambling. He couldn't quit. He also owed Two-Face fifteen grand, and he'd just about been able to keep the interest paid. Still finding a table to sit down at, still looking for the big win that would pay it all off. Maybe buy enough roses to get the ex-wife to talk to him again.

The guy was an accountant; he was great with money as long as it wasn't his own, and he could be useful to their organization. He was late with his payment this time, but the coin toss had come up to the unblemished face of Lady Liberty, so Two-Face had been planning to make him an offer instead of breaking a knee. A little embezzlement, a little cooking the books, a few other favors. The man still had some pride left, some kind of principles, so in addition to collecting the interest tonight Chad had been instructed to offer him a free bump of coke. As a friendly gesture, just between them. Just a little bit, enough to make him feel focused and sharp, and with luck and a few more such freebies, he'd be hooked soon. He already had an addictive personality, after all. Then they could reel him in more easily.

Except Chad never made his appointment. He left Two-Face's headquarters all right, driving a big four-door sedan, and halfway to his destination he'd been rear-ended by a fucking _septic tanker_. A huge, heavy vehicle, it had rammed into his back bumper hard enough to lock up his seat belt when it threw him forward, hard enough to rattle him – and he didn't rattle easily.

The next thing Chad knew, the front windows of the car both burst. On the driver's side, someone shoved a very large gun into his face. On the passenger side, someone else reached in, unlocked the door, and jumped into the seat, also holding a gun on him.

Chad really didn't rattle easily. "You two chucklefucks realize if you both shoot, you're liable to kill each other?" he said, sounding bored. His heart rate had picked up, but he'd been through similar shit with Penguin's gang and the Maroni family. Two-Face took care of his own, for the most part, so the odds were good.

"Just be quiet and do what we tell you," the one in the passenger side said, lowering his gun to Chad's lap. The other moved to the back door, climbing in, and pressed the barrel of his gun against the back of Chad's head. At no point did he have a chance to reach for his own weapon – and the septic truck was right behind him still, idling. If he cut up, that thing could just ram him into the nearest wall.

"All right. Whaddya want?" Chad said, and finally let himself glance at the passenger.

His skin broke out in gooseflesh, and his balls tried to climb back up into his belly. The man was wearing a clown mask.

Some of that realization must've shown on his face, because the guy giggled. Literally giggled, like a teenage girl. Fucking _hell_, just what no one wanted to deal with, Joker's freaks. Chad had avoided _that_ crazy bastard all his life. Two-Face and the coin thing was wacky. _Joker?_ Hell no. And half his people were bonkers, too. Chad began to worry as he drove, following directions, the cement mixer behind him.

He knew what this would mean, if Two-Face had been behind it. He'd be forced to drive to a construction site, one of these assholes would shoot him in the head, and the heavy vehicle following would be a concrete mixer that would pour fresh concrete over his body. Getting the condemned to drive was a dumb move, because he could always decide to just floor it and ram something, maybe take his killers with him. Two-Face usually got them to go somewhere secluded, then bundled the target into the trunk for the last part of the drive. Safer that way.

But the vehicle following wasn't a concrete mixer. Chad wondered what the hell they were playing at. And why Joker would want to start shit with Two-Face now, when the Clown's reputation was tarnished. "What's the plan, boys?" he said lightly, keeping tight control over the worry gnawing in his belly. Joker didn't do things in any rational way.

The gun at the back of his head shoved against his scalp, the muzzle digging in. "The plan is you do what we tell you, and maybe you live to see the sun come up tomorrow. Talk too much, screw around, try to fight, and you die. Got it?"

Well, they were holding out hope. That could be good or bad. The hope of survival was a potent tool; a man would obediently walk right up to his grave, as long as you convinced him he had a chance of escaping alive. Once they knew they were gonna die, they got desperate. Chad knew that, and still the hope worked on him. He'd just have to keep a careful eye out.

Their destination turned out to be the wastewater treatment plant on the edge of town. Chad began to feel nervous again as his two captors ordered him out of the car, and started patting him down. They took his gun, his brass knuckles, even his pocket knife, and then they cuffed his hands behind his back. For a couple of nutjobs, they knew their work. And then they marched him at gunpoint into the plant.

It stank to high heaven, of course. Chad's eyes watered, but he kept his gaze moving, looking for a chance. If anything looked like a possible escape, he'd take it. Being shot running was no worse than whatever Joker could dream up, and he might get lucky. Even if he didn't, hell, he'd had a good long run. Better than most, in this town.

Then he saw two goons, standing up at his approach, and beyond them Joker's right hand man. Jonny Frost, the guy's name was, and word on the street said he was the only sane one in the Clown's crew. Except you had to be mental to be that loyal to _Joker_.

Frost was standing next to a chain hoist, his hand on the controls. Chad's eyes followed the chain, jerking and twisting, into a tank of raw sewage, and his gut began to roil. Joker was beside the tank, looking at his wrist, though he wore no watch. "Okay, Jonny, bring 'em up," he said jovially.

When Frost pressed a button, the chain retracted. Chad knew what to expect on the end of it: a man, chained by the ankles, who'd been lowered head-first into the sewage. He came up coughing and retching, and Chad had to think unpleasantly about how long he'd been under. It'd be bad enough, just holding your eyes closed while the foul stink invaded your nose. To be under long enough that your lungs burned and your body overrode your brain, trying to take a breath of that slop? _Ugh._ Two-Face might hang a man upside down and gut him like a fish to send a message, but he wouldn't do _this_.

"Last time, Eric," Joker asked. "I need that address."

"I don't know!" the man wailed. Chad realized that he knew the guy, and his stomach turned. Eric was another bagman working for Two-Face, and hearing the pathetic pleading tone in his voice was worse than the indignity of drowning in liquid shit. It was bad enough to contemplate a death like that, but the thought of begging at the end?

Black Mask and Two-Face had gone a couple rounds recently, and Two-Face had caught one of Mask's lieutenants for retaliation. The coin toss had come down with Liberty's scarred face showing, and in this case, that meant a slow death instead of a simple bullet to the head. Mask liked the brag about the power drill he'd taken to Spoiler, so Two-Face's guys had used one on their captive. Chad hadn't been in on that one, but the guys talked about it, about how Mask's lieutenant had never begged. He'd even managed not to start screaming for a good while. They'd ended up coring him in the forehead sooner than Two-Face would've liked, had he stayed to watch. It was a kind of respect.

Chad thought about running, but the guys on either side had hold of his arms. And they could always shoot him in the leg to stop him running, then drown him all the same. He'd take his chances, if he could twist loose. Life wasn't fair, after all, and he'd accepted that he was going to die tonight. He'd just rather die clean, if he could.

Joker strolled around the edge of the tank. "It's a simple thing. You can walk away from this, friend. Oh, you'll have to leave town, because Harvey will want your head on a pike, but that's nothing. And hey, look on the bright side! The smell will wash off eventually. You can live. Just give me the address."

"I don't know it, I swear I don't know, please let me go," Eric blubbered. "I'll go find out for you, I promise, I'll find out and tell you just _please!_"

Joker waved a hand irritably, and Frost hit the button again. Eric screamed, the sound cut off by bubbling, and the chain began to buck and shudder again once he was under.

Then Joker turned to Chad, giving an eloquent shrug. "It's so hard to find good help these days. Really, Harvey's boys are terribly under-informed. I hope you can help me out, this is getting tiresome."

"What address do you need, sir?" Chad threw that respectful little word on the end just out of a hunch. Joker didn't respond to threats, everyone knew that. Maybe going the other way, pretending this was a normal civil interaction, might work. Anything for a few more seconds of life.

Joker laughed, and Chad's skin pebbled up again. He thought he'd been spooked in the car, with two crazies aiming guns at him. Hearing that laugh … maybe it was time to leave town, if he survived this. Things in Gotham had been simmering away since Black Mask got arrested, and it looked like the pot was boiling over.

"Sir! I like this one. It'd be a shame to hook you up to the dunking vat there," Joker said, coming up to his side and slinging a friendly arm around his shoulders. Chad managed not to shudder, his eyes flicking back and forth between Joker's leering grin and the chain, whipping around in shorter arcs. How long did it take a man to drown, anyway?

"Tell me what you need," Chad said.

"No loyalty to your boss? No little speech about how Harv's gonna come cut half my face off for screwing with his crew?" Joker pulled a sad face at that, but his eyes were avid.

"Would it make a difference?" Chad asked.

He got rabbit-punched in the side for that, but didn't stumble. "I don't appreciate a smart mouth," Joker said sternly. "Now. All I need is a simple thing. A month ago Harv's boys were recruiting in the Bowery, and they ran across a group of kids squatting in an abandoned building. Pretty damn quick those kids got rescued by a bunch of do-gooders, but I want the address of the building they were in. Got it?"

Chad _did_ know about that one. Two-Face had been _pissed_. He'd sent out a simple recruiting run and ended up with a bunch of his guys beat up and jailed. Red Hood, Catwoman, Black Canary, and Blur had all been in on the rescue. Chad figured Joker's target was either Red Hood, whom he claimed to have created, or Catwoman, who hung out with Harley whenever the Clown's girl wasn't with him.

He wouldn't say Harley's name to Joker right now, though. That'd be a sure way to end up dead, possibly more unpleasantly that Eric. The chain had stopped shaking so violently, just wobbling a little, and Chad felt almost hypnotized by it.

"I know where the place is," he said. "But the kids are long gone. No one knows where they are."

Joker hit him again, low in the belly and too fast for him to tighten his abs. "I _know_ that, you idiot," Joker snarled, the tone of pleasant amusement replaced by a deep snarl that barely sounded human. He hit Chad again, a little higher, and forced a grunt of pain from him. "I want the _address_, not the kids. The brats would be nice, but they're scattered to the winds. Too much work to round them up. No, I need to send a message to Hood that'll bring him running. And if I can get his friends, too, well … I'll take the Cat _and_ the Canary. Neither of them have any respect. New girl Blur, well, someone should figure her out. Preferably by dissection. Might as well be me."

Chad hadn't heard too much about the Blur, except that her part in the rescue had been rather dramatic. The guys they'd bailed out of jail had confirmed she was a meta, blindingly fast, but she'd also been utterly furious with them. Hood had acted like he needed to keep a check-rein on his partner, and wasn't _that_ something? Maybe he just wanted all the blood on his own hands, but Chad wondered now just how dangerous that girl really was.

It wasn't his problem. None of this was. If he walked out of here tonight he'd keep going 'til he was outside Gotham, out of the state, find a new name and maybe take a straight job. Day labor in construction was looking pretty damn good right now. He spoke the address clearly, promptly, and saw the chain finally go still as he did.

"Wonderful, thank you, that's such a big help," Joker said, his voice expansive and friendly again. He slapped Chad's shoulder affectionately. "You win the big prize, pal!"

"Yeah?" Chad asked, and felt that treacherous hope rise up. Joker's employees hadn't let go of him yet, though.

"Yeah," Joker said, smiling fondly. "You're not going in the tank. In fact, you get to ride out of her right back to Harv's headquarters. How's that sound?"

"Very good, sir," Chad said, trying not to start shaking. He was _so close_ to surviving this, so close to getting away. Even the stench of sewage smelled like life; every second he breath that thick, foul odor in was another second he wasn't dying.

"I can't let you drive, though," Joker said, in confidential tones.

"Of course not," Chad agreed, nodding.

"Good man," Joker told him, patting his shoulder.

A curving line of heat ran up his belly, and he looked down. Joker suddenly had a knife in his hand, and it was red. Chad's white shirt bloomed red, too, gaping open when he breathed in.

Joker had just cut him from navel to breastbone, and for a moment he was so shocked couldn't even feel the pain. Then Joker drew the knife along a horizontal line, crossing the top of the fishhook-shaped cut he'd made first, and Chad felt _that_ one. He sucked in a breath, trying not to scream.

"Gotta make sure he knows it's me," Joker said conversationally, and rammed the knife into Chad's throat. It went all the way through his trachea, sliced open an artery, and the tip pricked between his vertebrae. Not quite long enough to sever the spinal column completely, but the pain in his belly was gone.

Joker's goons let go, and Chad tried to run. Even with his throat cut, the animal instinct to survive was strong in him, and some desperate kind of hope had him lunging away … except he spilled to the ground, his limbs distant, not answering the frantic signal from his brain.

His heart raced, he tried to breathe and got a lungful of blood, but the spouting wound in his neck seemed to be the biggest problem. Chad heard Joker say to his men, "Shove him in the backseat, and stick the other one in the trunk. I want Harv to find them tomorrow. Shame it's so cold, they'd get whiffy _real_ quick in summer. Ah well, teach him to try taking my percentage…"

The voice faded as Chad's vision darkened. He had time for one last thought: it was a better death than Eric's, at least.


	25. Please Have Snow and Mistletoe

**Authors' Note:** We're back, with the fully finished chapter, and some excellent progress made behind the scenes.

I'm sure everyone has Covid-19 on their minds. Both of us are reasonably healthy - our recent colds had very different symptoms and progression than Covid-19. However, the virus has been confirmed in our county, and at least one of the so-far three people who tested positive was from community spread, not travel. Which means it's out there, in far more people than the numbers show.

We are both still working. Our jobs require our physical presence and neither of our companies has made any plans to close locations. We'll be washing our hands regularly. Our home is reasonably stocked for the next while - grocery stores are still open and stocked here, though you might have to go to two stores to finish your grocery list. If our jobs do close, we'll get some extra writing done, but considering we are both usually open up until a few hours before a freaking hurricane makes landfall, we don't expect the jobs to shut down abruptly.

Take a deep breath, friends, and hold steady. This too shall pass.

* * *

Jay woke up early the next morning, because something small, cold, damp, and vaguely salty was pressing against his lips. His half-asleep mind couldn't process that, and he blinked his eyes open.

Right in front of his face was a fuzzy black blur with two jade-green eyes, staring into his own. Jay was so shocked he froze – and Norway, the fluffy cat, nudged her nose against his mouth again, insistently. "Jesus fuck," he muttered, trying to sit up.

The cat had perched herself on his chest, and when he moved, all of her claws went right through his t-shirt. They stopped short of his skin, though, and he reached up very gently to try and lift the cat off him. She only weighed about five pounds – he hadn't felt her walking up his body.

Norway gave a _mrr_ of protest, but she went limp in his hands instead of scratching or biting. He set the cat on his lap and rubbed at his mouth, staring at her. "Oh man, that's snot, isn't it? You have any idea how gross that is? And why are you sticking your _nose_ in my _mouth_? That's fucking weird, cat."

She blinked at him, and flopped over on her side, showing him her fluffy belly. Jay reached out and petted her, smiling a little as she wrapped her paws around his wrist. "Yeah, you're cute. For a gross little weirdo." Norway purred so hard he could feel it in the bones of his hands.

Glancing at the clock, Jay saw that it was _far_ too early to be up, but he was awake now. And he wanted to wash his face and brush his teeth. He also needed to figure out how the cat had gotten into the room and prevent it in the future. When he moved, though, Norway whined and squirmed, grabbing at his hand. "Fine, you little mooch," Jay said.

He snapped a picture of himself petting her, Norway's eyes closed in bliss, and sent it to Kala. _This is what I woke up to 'cause you weren't here. Younger woman broke into my room, tried to take advantage._

Kala was still in Metropolis, he thought. And it didn't really surprise Jay to get a prompt reply. _Awww! So adorable!_ And then, a beat later, _Wait, where the hell are you? I know you don't have a cat._

Jay chuckled. _Manor. Selina moved in last night. Brought 33 or so of them. Half are feral, one is fifteen pounds and tried to gnaw Bruce's fingers off last night. Drools, too. They make the weirdest noises._

Kala, of course, was charmed. _This I have to see. Bet they're adorable. But if Selina moved in – are things heating up over there?_

Trust his girl to realize what was actually going on. _Joker burned the arboretum. He's escalating, and Selina thinks he might come for her. Got a lot to tell you when you get in. She's safer here & so are the cats._

_Sounds like fun,_ Kala replied. _Can't wait to see you._

Jay smirked and sent back, _Can't wait to see you, either. The cat's cute, but not who I wanted to wake up petting. _

Kala sent him back, _I see what you almost did there,_ followed by a series of laughing emojis. Amused, but determined not to make a crass joke that would get him in trouble, Jay got up and got dressed, ignoring the cat snuggling up in the warm spot on his bed. "All right, you, time to go," Jay said, and tried to pick her up.

She clung to the blanket, and Jay had to gently disengage her claws. He was getting more comfortable handling the cats – well, this one at least. She let him carry her out of the room and down the stairs, draping herself over his arm and purring loudly. He shook his head, moving on toward the kitchen. Breakfast sounded nice…

… until he heard another cat making a _mrowr_ noise that got louder and higher-pitched. Alfred stalked out of the kitchen, his face set in disapproving lines, carrying the big cat, Batty. "Your pardon, Miss Batty, we do not allow animals in food preparation areas," he said, and deposited the cat on the floor.

Jay couldn't help a snort of laughter, and Alfred fixed him with a grim glare. "I doubt you will find it so amusing if you should discover cat hair in your scrambled eggs, Master Jason."

True, but before Jay could admit it, Batty tipped her head back and gave another loud _mrowr_. Norway flipped herself out of Jay's arms at that, rushing to her much bigger sister and grooming her face. Batty just stared at Alfred, making her weird excuse for a meow. "_No_," he said emphatically.

Selina strolled up – wearing Bruce's bathrobe, so at least someone was benefiting from this madness, with her favorite cat slung around her shoulders like a fur stole – and cocked an eyebrow at all of them. "Morning, boys."

"Miss Kyle," Alfred said severely, and if he was using her last name instead of her first, she was definitely in trouble. "Please explain to your charges that it is both unsanitary and unsafe for them to stand on the counter while I prepare breakfast."

Batty yelled again, and Norway added a sharp counterpoint. "Hush, girls," Selina remonstrated. "He doesn't know about the Bat-tax."

"The Bat-tax?" Jay asked. "Do I even wanna know?"

"Batty's obsessed with cheese. If you're making anything with cheese in it, you have to give her a pinch. That's the Bat-tax," Selina explained. "Alfred, give me a little cheese and I'll keep them out here?"

The butler gave one of his complicated sighs, but returned with a spoonful of fresh cheddar. Selina sat down in the breakfast nook and fed it to Batty, as Jay sniffed appreciatively at the scrambled eggs and bacon wafting from the kitchen. "I'm liking this Bat-tax thing," he said. "I'll just stay by the door and steal half of what's on everyone's plate as it goes by."

"That'd be the Hood-tax. Don't you tell everyone you're not a Bat?" Selina teased, her eyes sparkling. "Also, Batty gets away with it because she's cute and endearing. You think you can compete with her there?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah no, I haven't been cute since I was a kid. Maybe I can swing it by being huge, loud, and intimidating. Just like that cat."

"Aww, Batty-Bat, you're not intimidating. Don't listen to the mean old Hood," Selina crooned. Batty glanced up from her cheese, giving a muttered _mrratt_ with her mouth full.

"Do any of them actually meow?" Jay asked. "I hear a shitload of weird noises, but not one normal cat meow."

The one on her shoulders – Miss Kitty – looked at him archly, opened her mouth, and let out a tiny bell-like mew. Jay scoffed at her, and Selina shrugged. "Very few cats sound the same. Certainly none of the sisters meow – Norway's the closest, maybe, or Belle. Wait 'til you hear Bolt, she never lost her kitten voice."

Three cats ran past the hallway, and Jay just shook his head. "Thomas and Martha Wayne would be so proud. Their little baby Brucie grew up, found a girlfriend, and she's a crazy cat lady who moved in with thirty-three of the damn things."

"He adopted a circus boy, a street rat, and then the _one_ kid with some breeding who's determined to become a shut-in," Selina shot back. "Also, I'm not a crazy cat lady. I don't keep all of them. They just know how to find the right people, and I help them." Miss Kitty flipped her tail insolently, looking right at Jay.

"Crazy, and so are they," Jay argued. "Do you know this fluffy little shit got in my room somehow and woke me up shoving her cold damp nose in my _mouth_?"

Selina smirked at him. "Don't tell me you're one of those guys who doesn't have a taste for it."

Jay blinked at her, realizing she was using the pun he _hadn't_ sprung on Kala, and wished he had something to throw at her. "Knock it off. You're not allowed to make that joke, Catwoman. Also I know fully damn well the reason her nose is _wet_ is _snot_. And that's not okay. It was _salty_, goddammit."

He'd gotten a little strident there, and Norway sat up, staring at him. Her white teeth shone as she gave an equally strident _maow!_

"Calm down, fun police, he won't hurt me," Selina chuckled.

"Fun police?" Jay echoed.

"Norway yells at anyone who raises their voice," she explained. "And God help you if you make one of her sisters cry, she'll yell at you for that, too. She was the last one spayed – she's just too tiny, I let her grow up as much as I could – so she thinks she's mama cat."

Jay looked down at the furball, and saw that pink maw again as she scolded him with another _maow!_ "Jesus fuck, this tiny-ass cat is bossing _me_ around?" The sheer audacity impressed him. Jay was pretty sure, given his pre-Kala diet of takeout Chinese and chili dogs from sketchy carts, that he'd taken shits bigger than that cat.

"That tiny-ass cat bosses Batty around, and her sister's fifteen pounds of solid muscle," Selina said with a shrug. "She also sleeps on top of poor Freyja, who might be four times her weight. It's not the size, Jay, it's what you do with it. Haven't you heard that one before?"

"Never about anything with claws," he shot back, and she laughed.

That discussion had to be tabled, because Dick came in with a grim expression. "Joker's at it again," he said, putting one of their tablets on the table between Jay and Selina. "Breaking news, just now. This one doesn't make _sense_. Why would he burn down an abandoned building? Without any fatalities, either?"

The article he'd pulled up, though, made both Jay and Selina gasp. Mostly because it had a photo of the building facade _before_ Joker had set it alight. "The kids," Selina murmured, her green gaze turning icy. "That sonofabitch."

"Kids?" Dick said, looking pained.

"They all moved on. But that pack of kids I was looking after? That's their building. Well, it was." Jay suddenly didn't care about banter or breakfast. "This motherfucker's pissing in _my_ wheaties now. Joker's taking a shot at _me_."

"Not just you," Selina reminded him. "Oswald knows I was looking after those kids, too, and I'm in Joker's crosshairs too. He's just killing two birds with one stone."

"Why would he go after you now, Jay?" Dick asked, bending down to pet the two cats that had started rubbing against his legs. "I mean, we've been figuring his primary motivation is revenge on Harley. You had nothing to do with that. Maybe it is about Selina."

"No, it's about me," Jay said coldly. "Joker's _girlfriend_ kicked his ass. He's lost face; everyone in town knows he beats the hell outta Harley. She's always bounced back from it, but the one time she raises a hand to him, he lands in Gotham General with a fractured skull? It makes him look weak. Now every thug in town is wondering if his balls dropped off. If he can't find Harley to even the score, he'll have to make a statement some other way. And he never shuts up about that poor little Robin he beat to death."

Selina sat up sharply, looking worried. "You're alive, you're here in Gotham, you proved you can run the gangs better than him when you want to, but you're back running with the Bats. _Like it never happened._ God, Jay, if he can't get Harley, you're the obvious choice. You're his other big failure."

Jay couldn't help laughing at that, bitterly enough that little Norway jumped up to the table and patted his face with one fluffy paw. He rubbed the top of her head. "I'm everybody's failure, aren't I?"

"Not mine, Master Jason," Alfred said sternly as he walked back into the room with three plates of scrambled eggs and bacon. "And I'll hear no more such talk from you, either. I wager Miss Kala would be _vociferously_ displeased with you for it, and she can nearly match you for profanity when she chooses."

Jay bowed his head at that. "Okay, okay. But we're right about this being aimed at me. Joker wanted to destroy me, and he failed. Killing me off – or making me go off the deep end – would send a message to the whole city."

"He will not find you an easy target," Alfred said with utter certainty. "And should he show his face within range of this house, I shall defend it – and my charges – as I always have."

Somehow Jay was certain that defense would involve the double-barreled Purdey shotgun over the mantle, and he managed to smile.

…

Dinah took Roy and Lian with her to drop off gifts for the kids in Gotham. Jay's kids, really, but the one time she'd called them that in front of him, Jay had damn near exploded. She didn't even want to know what _that_ dose of paranoia was about.

X-Boxes for all the kids, courtesy of their favorite rock star, plus games and clothes and books courtesy of everyone. As for food, Lois Lane had reached out to Dinah about getting these kids some home-cooked meals for the kids on Christmas Day, and Babs had arranged it. Everything would go off without a hitch on the big day. Dinah was careful, dropping off the goodies, not to let herself be followed. Roy watching their back-trail helped ease her mind about it, too.

The news that morning had been grim. Joker had struck again, seemingly at random. He'd burnt down the building where Jay had stayed with those kids, and the moment Babs realized which one it was, she'd dived into the flow of information around the city, looking for correlations. It hadn't taken her long to find two of Dent's men dead, in gruesome fashion. Joker must've gotten the address from them, and then torched the building. According to what Dinah had heard over brunch at the Manor – accompanied by a cat or two under her seat hoping for tidbits – Joker was striking out at Jay to re-establish himself.

It made sense. Joker was spoiling for a fight and hoping one of them would give it to them. He'd torched the arboretum trying to draw Pam out so she'd lead him to Harley. He'd killed two women who happened to be the same hair colors as Pam and Harley, too. The car bomb at the police station was worrisome, too, especially when taken with the fact that Joker had used a car that once belonged to Dick, and he'd also set fire to a library that Babs once worked at to cover a bank robbery.

Those last two might not mean anything. They had no reason to believe Joker knew their civilian identities. Babs might be a target because she was the commissioner's daughter, or the library had just been the closest building to the bank Joker chose. The thing with Dick's car might be a true coincidence, he'd only owned it briefly after all. But no Bat trusted coincidence, and after this long running with the Birds of Prey, Dinah didn't put much stock in it, either.

If Joker _did_ know their identities, he'd be leaving more hints soon. He couldn't resist baiting Bruce. Security at the Manor and Clock Tower had been quietly stepped up; Bruce and Babs put their faith in tech, but Dinah was secretly glad to have Donna Troy there. And soon, Kala would be, too. Joker wouldn't be able to sneak past their superhuman senses.

Kala being there would settle Jay down, too. The burning of the kids' former building had him on edge and snappish. He'd relax with close air support, Dinah figured. That move wasn't part of Joker's apparent pattern of hinting at civilian identities, but then, Jay didn't have much of one.

Trying to outguess Joker was a fool's game, anyway. The one thing everyone knew for certain about him was that his goals could change on a whim.

…

Michelle Troupe's birthday was December 25th, and she was turning eighteen. A memorable age, and it reminded Lois of a very memorable year. It seemed so long ago now, and so tumultuous at the time. Lois and Clark had gotten engaged on Christmas Eve, Richard and Lana had gotten _married_ on Christmas Day, and Lucy had given birth to her youngest daughter right after Christmas dinner. Oh, and a few days later they'd discovered that Loueen was pregnant with Perry's son Bryan. The next summer Lana had turned up pregnant, too, which resulted in Michelle, Bryan, and Kristin all being within fourteen months of each other, although they'd been born in three different calendar years.

Around the _Daily Planet_ offices, where all three kids worked after school in departments far from their parents, they were known as the Golden Trio. Lois snorted every time she heard it; all three of them were Potter fans, but they couldn't help falling into endless arguments about which character they actually were. Lois, who knew just enough to realize that she was a textbook Gryffindor herself, let the talk flow over and past her as the kids bickered and debated. Last she'd heard, Kristin refused to be the Weasley of the group despite being the redhead, and Michelle was proclaiming herself the obvious Hermione. Bryan still claimed to be the chosen one, as Perry's son, but he didn't have any cool scars. Any discussion in that direction usually resulted in the two girls offering to chuck rocks at him until he acquired one. Lois, who knew a few things about Michelle's gifts this year, was looking forward to the latest iteration of that debate.

By long tradition, the family celebrated Michelle's birthday the weekend before Christmas, and tried to differentiate holiday gifts from birthday gifts. Ron and Lucy tried to give her experiences for her birthday and things to unwrap for Christmas, a system that had worked well for them for years. Lois was glad her own kids were far enough from Christmas not to exhaust her gift-giving creativity or strain her wallet.

Jason would normally turn up for his cousin's birthday, but this year he was staying in Smallville, not wanting to leave Elise's side. He'd mailed Michelle's card and chipped in on her big gift, and would call that evening, but Lois knew how rough a hybrid pregnancy could be. Second generation might be even worse. She couldn't blame him for sticking close to his wife at a time like this.

That left Kala basking in the attention, glad to have her parents all to herself for a day or two. She'd slipped in while they were at work, grabbed dinner for all three of them that night, and stayed so late she'd ended up sleeping in her old room. Clark had raised an eyebrow, but Lois had shaken her head at him, knowing why Kala didn't fly home. The house had to be too full of reminders of Sebast, right now.

On Saturday, they got to the restaurant Michelle had chosen early, but still didn't manage to beat Richard, Lana, and Kristin. Lois just rolled her eyes as they got out and headed in. Lucy, Ron, and all of their kids would be there, Joanna even dropping in from Antigua where she was painting these days. Bryan and Loueen were there, too, though Perry hadn't felt up to the trip. The editor-in-chief could still bellow across the bullpen at need, though Lois had taken over more of his duties as time went on. Michelle and Bryan had been best friends since babyhood, but in the last couple years their friendship had taken on a different texture. Lois had asked Kristin about it and gotten only a cryptic shrug in reply. The three kids were thick as thieves; no wonder she didn't divulge any details.

Throughout the dinner, Kala put on a very convincing performance. There was no reason for her cousins, or her aunt and uncle, to guess that she wasn't on top of the world. Then again, that was a courtesy to Michelle, whose day this was. Kala wouldn't interrupt it with drama, no matter how juicy the gossip about her life might be.

Although, Kristin _did_ ask her, "Is everything all right, Big K?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Kala said brightly. Only her mother saw the cracks in her facade as she smiled. "Sebast's in Ponce. He's gonna be busy, there's baby showers and a wedding all in three weeks, on top of the usual Christmas stuff. We'll talk after the holidays." Kristin nodded, though she looked a little too shrewdly at her sister, and made a point of passing her tastes of her meal. Lois watched knowingly; that one had plenty of Lana's observational skills, and she made it her business to look after the people she loved.

Of course, the big birthday gift announcement was still to come. Michelle's card was sitting in the middle of the table, and once they'd gotten through dinner and ordered desserts, she finally opened it. Lois, who knew what was in the card, just sat back with a grin. She and all the other adults had contributed to this, after all.

Michelle's cafe au lait complexion went pale. "Oh my _God_," she whispered. "Really?"

"What is it?" Bryan asked, and Kristin leaned forward curiously.

"It's real," Lucy said. "We all chipped in. And you're _not_ going unchaperoned, young lady. But it's time you had a break from school and work all the time."

"You're only eighteen once," Ron said fondly.

"Yeah, Lucy got _you _for her eighteenth," Lois cut in. "Michelle, do us all a favor on don't get married yet."

"Nah, not yet," Michelle said, and maybe only Lois saw Bryan take a conspicuous sip of his soda.

Kristin redirected them all quickly; yeah, she knew something was up. "Are you going to tell us what you got? Is there a car key in that card?"

"No," Michelle said, and turned it around. Lois knew what was there, but she saw Kristin and Bryan both crane their heads to see, and then their jaws dropped in unison.

"The _ultimate_ package?" Bryan said, stunned.

"Five-day passes to all three Universal parks, five nights in a resort hotel, early admission to the parks, breakfast at both of the theme restaurants," Lucy said. "Plus some other stuff. You're buying your own souvenirs, though. You've got time to save up – we're actually going sometime in March."

Loueen patted Bryan on the shoulder. "Guess what, kiddo, this's your Christmas present. Surprise."

"Really?" he squeaked, eyes wide.

"Really," Loueen told him. "Not like Michelle would go _anywhere_ for five days without inviting you and Kristin."

"Absolutely not," Michelle said firmly.

"Oh, I am so down for this," Kristin said. "Mom, Dad, I should have enough in savings, right? This is an _event_. I can't miss it."

Lana chuckled. "Sweetheart, your tickets are already bought. It'll be your seventeenth birthday gift."

"_Yes!_" all three kids exclaimed, high-fiving across the table and already making plans.

Lois just leaned back and grinned at her sister, Loueen, and Lana. "I love it when a plan comes together."

"Yeah, now take a week off and come with me," Lucy pleaded. "No one can handle the junior reporters' league alone."

"Crap, if I wasn't on tour _I'd_ go with you," Kala said. "Let me know what dates, I might spring for a day ticket."

"We're trying to _limit_ the trouble they get in, not magnify it," Lana chided gently. "I can go, Lucy, if you want."

Lois knew this had already been decided; they were discussing it for the kids' benefit. Kristin just smiled at her mother. Having Lana along for the trip _would_ cut down on a lot of typical teenage chaos, but Lois figured the three would get up to enough trouble to satisfy them. Without ending up in jail or anything.

"This is going to be the best trip _ever_," Michelle proclaimed, pulling out her phone. "We should do the new Pottermore quiz to make sure we get the right merch."

"Whatever, you're Ravenclaw, Bryan's Hufflepuff, and I'm Gryffindor," Kristin said, but she took out her phone, too, and the trio's silence left the adults discussing logistics.

Lois took that moment to lean on her daughter's shoulder. "So, business as usual after New Year's?" she asked. Gently, aware that Kala had plenty of reason to hate New Year's Eve. Eight years didn't seem so long, whenever that particular night rolled around. Kala had been grounded on New Year's Eve, her parents had fought and the dreaded word 'divorce' had been brought up, and then on New Year's Day she'd run away from home and been kidnapped. Kala had avoided most of the hoopla ever since.

"Well, kinda," Kala said with a shrug, and tipped her head to lean against Lois, too. "The label's supposed to have a new manager for us when we start back up. I'm not dealing with Derek's crap anymore, so that's a plus, but I hope they give us someone good. I can't do it all by myself anymore. It's too much."

Lois frankly couldn't imagine being a singer, a manager, and a superhero, _plus_ trying to navigate a fairly new relationship at the same time. Kala had always seemed to have limitless energy … right up until the moment she fell out and slept for a full day. She slid an arm around Kala's shoulders, hugging her tight. To distract her, Lois murmured softly enough that the rest of the table wouldn't hear it, "Feel like you're ready for Christmas with the Waynes?"

Kala just groaned. "Oh, God, _never_. At least the food will be worth it." Still, she smiled. Lois figured she was conflicted about spending time with the whole family now that her relationship with Jay was in the open, and yet looking forward to seeing him. She'd admitted last night that she hadn't been to Gotham very often since firing her manager.

"Ha! Gryffindor!" Bryan exclaimed, having just finished the quiz. "I _told_ you. I'm the chosen one!"

Michelle rolled her eyes at him. "You are _not_ Harry Potter. You've got one Muggle parent, after all."

Clark picked that moment to ask, "What exactly is a Muggle? It sounds rude." Loueen rolled her eyes at that, shaking her head. Clark really should've picked that up from context by now, but Lois knew he didn't pay as much attention to fiction as the rest. Then again, he _lived_ a pretty fantastic life.

"Someone who doesn't have magic," Richard supplied, smirking. "Which, for these kids, means someone who isn't a reporter. Kristin's the only pureblood – she has _three_ reporter parents."

"Still makes her a Weasley, and matches the red hair," Michelle said. "Also, I'm Ravenclaw, to no one's surprise. Luckily I look good in blue, whether you go with bronze from the books or silver from the films."

For once, Kristin didn't react to the implications about which character she might be, just staring at her phone. Bryan threw his napkin at her. "Hello, Earth to Kristin. C'mon, what's wrong? Look, you don't have to be Ron, Ginny's a Weasley and still a Gryffindor."

"Dude, Ginny in the movies was just _weird_, don't do that to her," Michelle scolded, elbowing him. Kristin still didn't speak, and Michelle reached across, waving a hand in front of her face. "Hey, Kristin?"

The young redhead looked up then, frowning. "I am _not_ a Slytherin!"

Lois couldn't help it. She pointed right at Lana, laughing. "She _is_ your daughter through and through! You're the most manipulative person at the table, Red!"

"I am no such thing," Lana argued, but Lucy and Loueen both snorted at that, getting Lana's glare turned their way. Richard wisely buried himself in his own phone, not making eye contact with his wife or his ex.

"Oh, crap, she's not Ginny, she's _Draco_," Bryan gasped.

Michelle hit him. "No, dummy, _she's_ the chosen one! Remember, Harry was going to be sorted into Slytherin until he told the hat he wanted to be Gryffindor? And that makes _you_ Ron, still. The gormless one."

Kala wrapped her arm around Kristin's shoulder. "Someone's got to redeem Slytherin from the inside. Besides, they're all about ambition, cunning, and leadership, right? Sounds about right. And you look good in green."

Kristin seemed mollified, and Lois smiled at both girls. It was nice to only have to worry about _normal_ things, like theme parks and souvenirs, for a little while. God knew Kala deserved a break.

She wasn't getting much of one, though. She'd be flying out to Kansas first, and then heading back to Gotham on Christmas Day after the family festivities were over.

At least she had a whole week with no obligations before the tour started up again.

…

Dick had remarked for the fourth time that it was _wonderful_ having everyone at home – beaming at all of them, but especially Jay. And then of course he added that Kala would be there, too, soon enough, and Jay was just done with it all. He stalked off to his room, muttering about being allergic to so much togetherness.

Frankly, he just wasn't _used_ to it. Being able to have a civil conversation with Donna was nice, being able to hang with Roy was nice, and of course being here in the Manor with Dick and Tim and Bruce and Alfred was very nice. Just, all of it at the same time, a friendly face everywhere he turned, some gentle kidding or earnest concern about his well-being in every voice, somehow that made Jay's stomach queasy. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for them to turn on him, for all the _niceness_ to turn nasty.

He needed Kala. He could trust her kindness because she never held back when he was being a dick. Everyone else had family obligations or other reasons to be nice; Kala liked him for _him_. Not the kid he'd been, the man he was now. She'd never known him as a kid, so obviously it was who he'd _become_ that she knew and liked. No pity from her quarter.

But, she had a decent family and home life, so he couldn't expect her to ditch them at Christmas. He was lucky to get her on Christmas Day, and Jay knew it – but he was jealous enough of her time to be glad he got to keep her 'til New Years. A whole _week_, that would be almost like the summer again, seeing her every day. The only difference was, he'd be seeing her every night, too. It might be a good idea to sound-proof this room…

Someone knocked on his door, and Jay's instincts hadn't softened any. His hand dropped to his knife as he listened to the knock. "I just need to brood on my own," he called out. "It's a Bat thing, you'll understand."

A much higher voice than he expected declared, "Daddy says you're bein' Auntie Social. Lemme in."

Lian, of course. They sicced the kid on him, the dirty rotten bastards. Still, Jay got up and opened the door. "It's antisocial, kiddo. I'm no one's aunt."

She just shrugged, walking into his room curiously. All the horror and metal band posters caught her eye, and she stared up at Megadeth unflinchingly. Then again, her mom was an assassin, none of this could freak her out. "Cool," Lian finally said.

"Thanks," Jay told her. And wanted to kick himself for it. Since when did he need approval from a kid?

She hopped up into the chair at his desk, looking at the textbooks on the shelf and the monster models beside them. "How come you have kid stuff?" Lian asked.

"I haven't really been in this room much since I _was_ a kid," Jay explained. "All my stuff is the way I left it when I was fifteen."

Lian frowned a little. "How come you never came back?"

"It's complicated," Jay said, not wanting to get into all of it. "By the time I came back to Gotham, I was grown and got my own place. This is … like a time capsule, kinda."

She took another measured look around, and nodded. "You were an okay kid."

Jay laughed at that. "Nice to know you approve, squeaker."

She frowned at him then, and he saw a hint of Roy's truculence in her – but mostly Cheshire, whom he hadn't directly dealt with but whom he'd known to be wary of. "Only Daddy calls me that. And Dinah, sometimes."

"I stand corrected," Jay said, raising his hands.

Mollified, Lian swung her feet. "How come you're anti-social, then?"

"You gonna become a cop when you grow up? You've got the interrogation part down," Jay shot back.

"Eww, no. Cops just get in the way," Lian said breezily, and Jay stifled his laughter.

"Better not let your dad hear _that_, with him being such good pals with Officer Grayson," Jay warned.

She just rolled her eyes. "Uncle Dick is okay. The rest? Eh. So – why're you anti-social?"

Lian was giving him an intent look, and he figured she wouldn't be dissuaded, so Jay shrugged. "I've never been good with all the family stuff. Comes from running around by myself most of the time. I'm not used to this many people all up in my face."

For a moment, she looked at him solemnly, then nodded. "Me neither. Mostly it's just me an' Daddy. Mama sometimes too. Whoever Daddy's workin' with, or his girlfriends." Lian stuck her tongue out and rolled her eyes at that.

"Hey now, some of your dad's girlfriends are pretty cool. You like Donna," Jay pointed out.

"Donna is the best," Lian agreed. "Dinah says she and Daddy are both 'fraid of commint … conmintment? Something."

Jay laughed at that. The kid had a damn good head on her shoulders. It couldn't be easy, being the child of a hero and a villain. "Yeah, commitment. Dumb grownup stuff, mostly."

She leaned forward, and spoke with a conspiratorial air. "Lots of grownup stuff is dumb."

Jay also leaned toward her, matching her tone. "Yeah, it is. I do as little of it as possible."

Lian's eyes lit up at that. "Then you'd rather do fun kid stuff? Like sneak downstairs and steal all the cookies while everyone's talking about their _tax returns_ and other boring junk?"

"There's no way we could sneak down the stairwell without them spotting us," Jay said sadly. Her face fell, and he grinned, warming to this whole interacting-with-kids thing. "But … if we went out the window and across the string course to the corner, we could slip down and get in the kitchen window without anyone seeing us."

"Yeah!" Lian said excitedly. "I _love_ doin' parkour, let's go!"

Jay foresaw no problems whatsoever with letting Lian cling to his back as he traversed the walls of Wayne Manor. He'd done it hundreds of times as a kid, and compared to his nightly runs across Gotham's rooftops, it _was_ tame enough to be considered 'kid stuff'.

…

Kala had flown herself to Smallville three days before Christmas, with the rest of her family following the next two days. As usual, Richard, Lana, and Kristin took the seaplane, while Lois and Clark traveled the next day so as to appear to have taken a commercial flight. Kala just snickered, glad that she was free of job responsibilities and able to fly out first.

Elise, of course, put her to work immediately. The Kent farmhouse was over a hundred years old, and despite the whole thing having been cleaned to in-law inspection readiness for Thanksgiving, Elise was determined to make it shine. Kala found herself assigned to dusting all the high spots everyone else needed a stepladder to reach. As she hovered to polish the brass light fixture in the third-floor stairwell, she called down, "This is discrimination, just so you know."

"Yeah, yeah, shut up," Jason called back, re-hanging the parlor door that had started to stick recently. Elise herself was going around with a couple of rags and a bottle of lemon oil, polishing all the woodwork to a gleam.

"I wonder if she's nesting," Kala said, glancing down at her brother.

"Huh?" he asked intelligently.

"_Nesting_, Dopey. That thing pregnant women do when they get close to delivery? Where they go on a cleaning binge and put nine hundred things on the registry and get obsessive about buying baby clothes?" Kala rolled her eyes. "God, it's _your_ wife who's pregnant, you should know these things."

"Look, I know about Braxton-Hicks contractions and all the potential medical side effects. I know she went up a shoe size and she's _pissed_. But I haven't exactly studied the psychology," Jason replied.

"Well, you can quit worrying about side effects, I think. You're pretty much in the home stretch." Kala went back to polishing.

"Yeah, tell that to her heartburn. And the frequent flyer miles on bathroom trips," Jason sighed.

Elise arrived about then, glaring at both of them. "Are you done yet? You know the family will be here _tomorrow_, right?"

"You should look into those psychological side effects, Lizardman," Kala said, safely hovering out of Elise's reach. "She's _grumpy_."

Elise flipped her the bird with both hands. "Put your super-speed to use, you snarky pain in the butt. As for _you_, Jason Kent…"

"I'm working, I'm working," he said, lifting the door a little so he could slide the hinge pins in.

"The third floor bathroom faucet still drips, and we're going to have people over so turning off the water isn't a solution," Elise said waspishly.

"That's next on the honey-do list, honey," Jason replied, and turned a soft smile on her.

He was so clearly in love despite the attitude that Elise couldn't help smiling back. "I love you, you big dork," she said, and he left the door hanging by one hinge to hug her.

"I love you too," Jason murmured.

Kala called from the top of the stairwell, "I love you three, but I'm not coming down until there are witnesses. I don't wanna get stabbed."

Elise flipped her off again; the babies could hear by now, and she was trying not to swear in front of them. Kala snorted at that, and Elise just said, "Yeah, I love you four. I just hope _you_ get pregnant with twins when it's _your_ turn."

"Nope, nuh-uh, jinx on that," Kala said quickly, as Jason laughed at her.

"It runs in _your_ family," Elise pointed out. "I'll be sure to laugh at you when you're too fat to fly."

Kala burst out laughing, and just barely managed a controlled landing instead of an ungraceful splat. "Merry Christmas, everyone, huh, Elise?"

…

In Crown Point, there were decorations and lights the closer it got to Christmas, but some trades weren't exactly offering holiday specials. On a dark corner across from a twenty-four-seven convenience store, three or four women could usually be found standing around, talking desultorily. Not always the exact same women, but a careful observer would note that all of them together formed a group of just over a dozen. Their ages ranged from a hard-bitten sixteen to a carefully-made-up thirty, and the only thing they really had in common was a tendency to be under-dressed for the weather.

Well, that and the fact that all of them were exceptionally skilled at covering facial bruises or split lips with makeup.

The GCPD was aware of them, but the vice squad was focusing its efforts on the pimps and the gangs, not the girls on the street. Social services tried to reach out to them, but were often met with distrust – and the programs weren't popular enough to receive adequate oversight or even funding, despite sizable anonymous contributions from at least three masked figures in the night.

On this particular night, two hours before dawn, the trade had bled off for the night. Marcus Kyong was making his rounds, picking up the cash, making sure none of his girls had skittered off with their earnings, and distributing a scant allowance of various drugs, both prescription and street, among what he laughingly called his 'contractors'. He was handsome and smooth-talking, and had recruited most of them by dating them first. By the time they realized what he really did, and that they were no different to him than all the other former 'girlfriends', it was generally far too late. They quickly became part of his stable, addicted to the drugs he provided and convinced by his careful manipulation that not only did not they not deserve any better, they weren't capable of any more in life than this.

His current favorite was Alexa Washington, tall and dark and graceful. She strode at his side and gave the other girls a cold sneer as they stopped by each of his corners. All of them rolled their eyes behind her back; if they were so bold as to disrespect her to her face, Marcus would 'correct' them for it. Either by taking a steeper cut of their earnings, or with a sharp blow. He generally remembered to hit them in the belly or back, but sometimes lost his temper and his caution. That was how they'd all learned to cover up black eyes.

Tonight most of the girls seemed restive, making comments under their breath or stalking off loudly with angry glances at Alexa. She surveyed them all with queenly disdain, her hand tucked into Marcus' elbow.

The last stop was the group of three behind the convenience store. It wasn't the most productive location, and the girls there were a little short of their projected earnings. Marcus threatened and cajoled, and took a little more of their cut, to encourage them to be more proactive the next night. They looked at him sullenly, but none dared to challenge him.

Until the oldest in the group, a woman who called herself Destiny, looked him boldly in the eye, and said, "Well maybe if that black bitch didn't need a thousand dollars worth of weave, _you_ wouldn't need to cut us to the bone."

"What did you say to me, you crusty old whore?" Alexa challenged, stepping forward.

"You heard me, you nappy _young_ whore," Destiny shot back.

Marcus found himself trying to pry the two women apart, but somehow the other two got into it, too. And Alexa grabbed for his gun, screaming about shooting Destiny right in her pasty face, and in the struggle he lost control of the weapon.

Only then did he see most of his other girls, coming out of the side streets and the alley behind the store. All of them had some kind of improvised weapon, from a length of tow-chain to a board pulled off a fence. And Alexa pointed the gun at him with a cold smile. "The fuck you think you're doing?" he demanded. Fear churned his guts, but they were just women. He had spent a lifetime manipulating and intimidating women.

"Give us our fucking money, or I'll shoot," Alexa said.

"_Your_ money?" His voice cracked, in surprise, but the women had formed a loose circle around him that began to close. Marcus caught himself glancing toward the store, a block away. It seemed impossibly far.

"Our money. We earned it, you didn't," Destiny said, and he realized these bitches had _set him up_.

"That's it, every one of you smartass cunts is _dead_," he snarled.

Alexa pointed the gun at his feet and pulled the trigger. The shot cracked off the asphalt, and he jumped. Several of them laughed. "Only reason I don't shoot you now is I don't wanna wash your blood off my money. Hand it over, Marcus, or I'll take the risk."

He glanced at the store again, just in time to see the security mesh roll down over the door. _Fuck._ They might call the cops, but by the time those good-for-nothing bastards rolled up, this little scene would be finished.

One way or another.

He had his own expensive habits, but Marcus figured he could afford to lose a night's work more easily than he could a few pints of blood. Maybe his life, if the bitch got a lucky shot. "This ain't gonna be the end of this," he warned, mostly in an attempt to spook them, and pulled out the roll of bills.

Destiny took it, and began dividing it up. Alexa nodded, and took a step back, fumbling with the gun until she got it open. She shook the bullets out onto the ground, wiped the gun down with the edge of the cashmere coat he'd bought her, and threw it hard into the alley. Marcus squared his shoulders, raised his chin, and turned to walk off with all the dignity left to him.

To his surprise, the women closed ranks around him. "You think you can just walk away?" Destiny asked him. "After you beat me 'til I lost my baby?"

"After you beat me with a wire hanger for not going with that guy who looked like a goddamn leper?" another woman growled.

"After you got me high and made that video? The one you threatened to show my parents?" still another woman said, her voice thick with shame.

Something in the air was changing, and for the first time in his entire life, Marcus was afraid. Of _women_! "Who the fuck did you think you are?!" he demanded.

"Who do you think _you_ are?" they yelled back at him, a ragged splintering chorus, but all he heard was rage.

"Sorry, Marcus," Alexa said, her voice the only one cold and in control. "See, I said I wouldn't shoot you. I never said we wouldn't just beat you to a bloody pulp like Harley Quinn did to _her_ controlling asshole. Only difference is, you're not going to the hospital."

"The _fuck_–" he bellowed, but they closed in, swinging with all the strength in their arms. Marcus never stood a chance against that desperate wrath.

As last words went, his weren't particularly inspiring.

The police did eventually arrive, in time to pick up his body and photograph the blood splatter, but there were no witnesses to the crime. At least, none who would talk to them. A detective came back the following day to check out the scene, see if any of the locals had changed their minds.

He was the one who saw the fresh tag on the wall, as close as possible to where the body had been left. Working the Bowery, he had a good knowledge of the gangs and their various tags, as well as the taggers who were in it for the art alone and their works. This was nothing he'd ever seen before.

Red and black diamonds, sprayed hastily by someone unfamiliar with the medium, because the paint had pooled and run down in places. Even so, he knew what they were trying to convey.

A harlequin pattern.


	26. Make This a Christmas to Remember

**Authors' Note:** Writing in the time of Coronavirus. What a head trip.

Let us start by saying that we are both asymptomatic as of this posting. We are also both in essential industries - coauthor Lois works retail shipping, and coauthor Anissa works in a bank's mailroom. Even though Lois' job may close their doors to the public, and 90% of the bank's personnel may be working from home, someone has to ship the orders out at her job and receive people's payments at mine. So we are both going to be working throughout this situation. We're practicing social distancing and using plenty of disinfectant and washing our hands like Lady MacBeth. We're also both reasonably young and healthy, without risk factors, so we stand a good chance no matter what.

We will continue to write and post this fic. We have some concerns that the action arc is about to go in a direction that isn't exactly uplifting. So we'll promise you now, this story does have a hopeful ending. And this is not at all the last fic in the series. No matter how dark things get, in our world, they will always get better. Remember, we are the ones who wrote Lois and Clark discussing divorce, and their marriage came out stronger in the end. We're the ones who wrote Kal-El and the twins stranded on the kryptonite island, Kala actually bobbing in the sea with her hands zip-tied, and they all not only survived, they thrived by the end. No matter how bad things may look as these chapters roll out, we didn't build all of this up just to burn it down. All of it matters, and as Ivy would tell you, even a tree that seems dead and skeletal in midwinter can bud forth bright and green when spring comes.

Well, one thing that looks ruined stays ruined. Sorry if you 'shipped Harley and Joker, she's through with him. Though I doubt any of our readers support THAT relationship.

In these trying times, remember to be excellent to one another. Try to bring some hope, some love, some laughter, some happiness to the world around you. I know it can be hard. I know there are days when it seems like just getting out of bed is a monumental chore. Take care of yourselves, because we love you. And take care of the people you love. In giving joy to others, you often find some for yourself.

And now, on to the chapter.

* * *

Gotham looked, for one night at least, like a fairy-tale city, all dark stone draped in clean white snow. Evergreen garlands and bright ribbons added touches of color to the monochrome landscape, and bright lights twinkled everywhere.

The brighter the light, however, the darker the shadows beyond it. And tonight, five men slipped into the shadows surrounding a building on Park Row.

There were no twinkling lights, no garlands, no ribbons and bows on this building. No regular lights in the windows, either. Joker looked up at the penthouse, and stood silent, his men bunching up around him. "Smart kitty," he finally said. "_Bad_ kitty, but we can't say she's stupid. Come on, boys."

He headed toward the alley behind the building. Clotheslines and electrical wires crisscrossed the space above them, and Joker quickly found the rear door, which seemed to lead into a basement. One of his men hesitated as Joker stared at the door. "Boss? If the Cat's not home…"

"When the Cat's away, mice will play," Joker replied in a singsong. "No, no, we're not mice. But I doubt _every_ cat is gone. If we can't find Catwoman herself, we'll settle for one of her little familiars. You know, the Inquisition believed that a woman who lived alone with only cats for company was likely a witch."

There was a pause while he examined the door, and found the almost-invisible tripwires that led to tiny sensors hidden in the brickwork. Joker frowned at those, and moved along, checking windows. His men followed.

It turned out that every first and second floor window was also tripwired. It made sense that a thief would have good security, since she made a career of circumventing it. Joker circled around to the front door, and found that it wasn't tripwired, but there was a notice tacked up that said the building was undergoing mold abatement – plus more tiny sensors embedded in the jamb. "Oh-ho, look here," he chuckled. "Very stealthy, kitty. I could open this door, but the Bat would be here ten minutes later. Well, well. Let's keep looking, boys. And if you see a cat, let me know."

Eventually they broke into the building next door, finding a vacant apartment that abutted Catwoman's building. And since Joker had anticipated this sort of difficulty, they'd brought construction saws and sledgehammers. All the doors and windows might be alarmed, but no one had the time or the energy to run wires through the load-bearing _walls_.

They busted into an apartment that should've been occupied. It was fully furnished, there were linens on the beds and knickknacks on the shelves. No one was home, and the entire building was quiet.

Joker moved through incuriously, heading out the apartment's front door. He did check for cameras, and found none in the main hallways. None in the stairwell, either, and he and his men trooped up to the penthouse.

Selina Kyle's personal apartment. Which, Joker noticed immediately, also had its front door wired up with sensors. "Want us to bust through, boss?" one of the men asked.

Placing his hand against the wall, Joker closed his eyes thoughtfully. "No, no. If she bothered to wire the walls _anywhere_, she did it here. And she's not home, anyway. _Bad_ kitty. Ah well, I know how to get her attention. Paulie?"

One of his men had been tasked with carrying a couple cans of tuna, and he opened one now. The smell of canned fish was strong, and the crack of the pull-tab opening the can was loud in the quiet building. "Here, kitty kitty kitty," Joker called, turning in a slow circle. "Who wants a tasty snack, hmm? Here kitties, Daddy brought you a nice treat!"

Silence. Not even a single meow, and only then did Joker frown.

They repeated opening the cans and calling in the stairwell, the front lobby, and the alley behind the building. To Joker's deepening unrest, the only answer they received was a brief flash of a raccoon's eyes from within the dumpster behind the buildings. "Toss it," Joker growled, and Paulie threw all the cans into the dumpster. Joker paced, scowling. "She moved them all, somehow. Where could she hide that many cats for a while? The shelter? No, not her. A vet? Hmm, no. A friend? Hell, who in this town would take that on?"

And then he stopped. "Oh. Of course. Never mind, boys, we're going to have to do some trekking. Let's go."

The men looked at each other, clearly troubled, and Joker sighed. He couldn't have them thinking he'd been outwitted by _three_ women – Harley who had beaten him, Ivy who hadn't risen to his bait, and now Catwoman who'd slipped out of his grasp. "Boys, _boys_. Catwoman is a slippery little creature. But I know how to get her attention. And I know right where she is. It's not the best time to go knocking on Batman's door, though. I'm saving the best for last."

"So we're letting Catwoman go?" one of them asked.

"Of course not! I just need to send her a message, and she was rude enough not to leave me anything to write it on," he chided.

"There were notebooks in that apartment we were in," one of the men said helpfully.

"I'm not looking for paper," Joker said.

"Then…" another man asked.

Sometimes they were so _dull_. "Find me a cat. I prefer black, but any cat will do. We might have to leave the East End to do it. I bet she's put the word out around here."

Although Selina herself would have denied the capability to do so – she was Catwoman, not Dr. Doolittle – Joker and his men weren't going to see a single cat out and about that night, no matter how hard they searched.

…

Christmas Eve, everyone was back at the Kent farmhouse. Not all of the far-flung families had come to visit; a last-minute snowstorm had resulted in a lot of bumped flights and reroutes. They'd all just been there for Thanksgiving, so the Troupes ended up giving up their tickets and staying in Metropolis. The airline had the grace to compensate them handsomely. All the Lane-Kents and Whites were under one roof again, though, the Whites having left earlier and by private plane. The Lane-Kents, of course, flew Kal-El Air, and no snowstorm interfered with that service.

This morning, an increasingly frazzled Elise finally had a breakdown when she forgot to set the oven timer and burned an entire batch of cookies, her grandmother's special recipe, so badly that the kitchen filled with smoke. Richard, Lana, and Lois got her settled down in the living room while she cried it all out. Without even conscious thought, or a word of planning, the other three sprang into action before things could escalate. Clark yanked the pan of carbonized cookies out and chucked them out the back door, Kala got all the windows open in record time, and Jason used a judicious amount of super-breath to clear the smoke out. A minute or so later, no one would ever have guessed what had occurred. Not even the burnt smell lingered too badly.

It wasn't until the crisis had been averted, and the twins turned to grin at one another, that they saw Kristin standing in the doorway. _They had forgotten about __**Kristin**_. Kala froze, knowing her face had the same wide-eyed expression she saw on her brother's – and her father, walking back in with the steaming-hot baking sheet in his bare hands, looked just as shocked. This was a discussion that none of them had been quite ready for. _Oh shit, here we go again,_ Kala thought despairingly. She'd hoped to avoid any drama this holiday, but life was clearly laughing at her for that wish.

Kristin looked at all of them, silence ticking out for a minute, then two, and finally just said, "What do you want? A round of applause?"

That startled Jason into jagged laughter, Kala still in utter disbelief. "You know what, you two can handle this, I'm going to check on my wife."

He went out, not quite able to look his little sister in the eye. Which just left Kala and her father. To be fair, she couldn't blame Jase, but she wanted to hide just as much. That said, she wasn't going to leave Dad like this. Kala had kept the secret, too, and maybe this was the best thing. No more secrets. Clark just looked at Kristin soberly and put the baking sheet down in the sink. What more _could_ he do? "How long have you known?"

The redhead's expression didn't change from calm and curious as she shrugged. This was absolutely _not_ what Kala had expected, especially not from an important and much-loved member of this family from her very birth. No anger here, just that bright light in her eye that showed how shrewd she was. "I mean, I always knew you were _different_. I didn't realize _how_ different until like a year or so ago. And then I figured, no one's told me anything, so I'd just keep it quiet until you did."

That … surprised Kala. So far, that had not been a reaction that she'd seen. It made sense, honestly, but most people were not as close in the heart of things. Maybe it also explained a few questions that everyone had been waiting for the baby of the family to ask that had never come. It was a hallmark of their Dormouse that she never made waves. Well, now they knew why. "See, _that's_ why you're a Slytherin," Kala told her with a little smile. "Also why you're the one who's gonna be a reporter."

Dad spoke up then, smiling just the same, but he regarded her with that serious, earnest tone of his, the one that was more truly him than Clark Kent or Kal-El. "We were talking recently about telling you," Clark said gently, moving forward to take her hands in his. Kristin didn't hesitate to take them. "It's always hard, to decide when the time is right. We don't want to just shove that knowledge onto someone who's not ready for it, but any time after about the age of ten, it comes out like a secret we should've let you in on earlier."

"I get it," Kristin said, looking him in the eye with a smile just as solemn, and Kala breathed out. So far, this was a hundred times less dramatic than Sebast finding out. With that, Kristin arched an eyebrow in perfect imitation of her mother's imperious look, and added, "If there's any other family secrets, just go ahead and tell me, okay? I'm gonna be _real_ mad if it turns out that whole OT4 thing was real all along."

That had Kala throwing her head back to laugh, instantly in tears, as Clark coughed, blushing. Well, that not only broke the ice, it turned it to slush. Poor Dad. "No, that's very much just a silly office rumor. And if I ever find out who told you…"

Again, Little K had her dad's impish grin for all she looked so clearly Lana's. "The mailroom hears _all_ your gossip, you know," Kristin informed him. "You guys do act a lot closer than normal co-parenting among remarried divorcees or whatever the closest non-superhero equivalent is to your situation, but once you stick the cape element in there, it makes more sense. Personally I think the world would be a better place if more kids could say that have two moms and two dads, but then, I'm just lucky like that."

Still grinning, relieved and delighted that this was the solution to such a big reveal, Kala went over and pulled her little sister into a hug. "And we're lucky to have _you_," Kala said staunchly.

"Have to agree with that," Clark said. "Kristin, I don't want to cut this short, but I should get Elise some water." And tell the others that they'd just outed themselves, since Jason was distracted by Elise. Kala figured as much, but he wouldn't say that.

"No big deal. They ought to know. I get it, Dad. It's fine. So, Big K, you wanna go outside where it doesn't smell like the death of pastry and talk about superhero stuff?" Kristin asked, looking up at her.

Kala felt like _she_ should've been the one bringing Elise a glass of water, but Kristin would probably be more comfortable talking to her. She nodded, and she and her little sister went outside. Kristin grabbed her coat on the way out, and they crossed the yard to the tire swing, leaving footprints in the snow. The sun had come up so the day was warm enough, but Kristin still had to beat snow off the swing before she sat in it. She set it rocking lazily back and forth as Kala swept snow off the nearby picnic bench. Kala hopped on top of it, the wood cold under her jeans but not unpleasantly so, and waited for the questions to start.

"Okay," Kristin said. "He's Superman. Jason's Superboy. Who are you?"

"What makes you think I am someone?" Kala asked. "We've got to protect Mom. I can't run around as Supergirl, people will start to wonder about Lois Lane's twins."

Kristin laughed. "Yeah, right. If you've got the powers – and you just opened four windows in two seconds, so _duh_ – then you're using them. And I know you wouldn't have something like that and just use it for yourself. You'd _have_ to be out there saving people if you could."

Sighing, Kala couldn't help a rueful smile. Kristin didn't know the whole truth, then. "You'd be surprised. Not everyone with powers gets into the game. It can be very dangerous out there, for lots more reasons than the obvious."

Nodding, Kristin said, "Okay, so I'm gonna lean into this whole Slytherin thing, then. If you won't talk about being a superhero, let's talk about your new boyfriend. Is this for real? Because you've never been so secretive before."

_Ouch. Direct hit._ Kala sucked in a breath. "Okay, Draco, a little _too_ much Slytherin there. Jesus."

All she got in response was a laugh, Kristin kicking her feet to keep the swing moving. Kala finally sighed. "Yeah, it's … it's gotten pretty damn real."

"I figured," Kristin told her. "Real enough for you to break up with Sebast over it and that's, frankly, kinda scary. I never thought that could ever happen. Who _is_ this guy?"

Another score with that one. If she was fair, she should have seen that coming. Kristin had loved Sebast since she'd met him, when she was only eight. He had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember. And, considering, her sister had been incredibly good about this, though Kala knew she missed him. Hell, they all missed him, she knew that. But this was not exactly a focus she wanted to deal with right now. Scowling, Kala reminded her sharply, "You know _damn_ well that Sebast and I were never dating. C'mon, Kristin, we deal with his family all the time, I can't handle it from you, too."

The redhead sighed hugely, leaning back in the swing and rolling her eyes. "Big K, come on. Of course you were never dating; you both yell that at the top of your lungs every chance you get, but that doesn't mean you don't love him like crazy, anyway. You know I know better. And he loves you just as crazy. It's still a breakup if it causes you both this much emotional trauma."

Aggravated, Kala glared at her sister. It shouldn't surprise her the level of insight Kristin had, but it again couldn't be anything else, never expecting such shrewd questioning from this quarter. Kristin had been their favorite to spoil for so long, the pair of them taking her everywhere with them at times in the summer when they were off-tour, letting her stay over for the week often. Of everyone in the family, her Dormouse had the most unique view into their lives together when no one was looking. And clearly she had seen things even they hadn't. With a heavy sigh, Kala leaned back on the table, giving a tired sigh before she finally admitted, "You know what, you're probably right."

"Yeah, I get that from Mom. I'm usually right." Kristin sounded just as assured as Lana, and Kala huffed at her for it. What she said next damn near knocked Kala right off the picnic bench. "So, you're the Blur, and you're dating Red Hood. How'd _that_ happen? His reputation isn't anything I'd expect _you_ to put up with."

Just that name from Kristin's lips sent a million alarms screaming through her head. Warning alarms brayed that that brilliant little mind was treading too, too close to a dark hole she had no business circling. "How … what … Kristin, _what the fuck_?" Kala finally managed to say, ice in her veins. "Jesus _fuck_, are we really that bad at this?"

Kristin just laughed merrily at her, untouched by fear. "I've known you my _whole life_, big sister. I've known all _three_ of you my whole life. Sooner or later all the little weird stuff was gonna add up. From the conversations that stop when I walk in, to the way Daddy Clark just _shows up_ sometimes right when he needs to be there. Also, language. Mom would have an aneurysm."

Realizing what she had done, Kala winced. Yep, he was right; she was absolutely picking up his bad habits. "Yeah, I gotta admit that he's bad for my language filter," Kala muttered, blushing. "I can't believe this. I never knew just how awful I was capable of being at this. First Sebast, and now you. It's so not my year."

"At least the year's almost over. Anyway, I take it Sebast finding out is part of the reason he's in Ponce and you guys haven't made up yet?" Kristin asked, a little too innocently.

"No, I just… It's more complicated than that. In a way, him finding out helped. It also hurt some, too. He was furious that I lied to him for so long about something so fundamental." Kala still winced to say it.

Kristin shrugged one shoulder. "Nah, there's a difference between lying and keeping a secret. I knew I was into girls for like, a year and a half before I told you. Nobody owes anyone else a complete inventory of all their stuff. Being half-Super is only part of who you are. He's just mad because he wants all of you. Well, except for the sex."

That … was another observation she wasn't expecting. Oh yeah, somehow they had been a little too much themselves around Kristin. Powers of perception on this one were very much a fifteen out of ten, at this point. Yeah, Mom's Heir, indeed. Blushing harder, Kala admitted, "Yeah, well, sex happened at least once. A word of big-sisterly advice: don't drink with anyone you have a crush on."

At least Kristin's horrified expression made this entire terrible conversation worth it. "Oh my _God_. No wonder he's been so weird. Kala! Yuck, I bet that makes it all super awkward with the boyfriend, too."

Never had Kala quite wanted to pitch herself off the edge of the earth in sheer embarrassment. _Now _she gets dramatic. "You have no idea," Kala said dryly. "We're _not_ talking about my sex life. How the hell did you figure us out?"

That stopped the horrified face she'd been making, thank God. Kristin smiled brightly at that, and Kala caught another glimpse of Lois' legacy in the future journalist. "Oh, there were a lot of things. You're not horrible at hiding it, by the way. If the only people who have figured it out have known you for eight to sixteen years and have _lived_ with you, that's pretty good. Anyway, the biggest one that clicked for me is the way Jase looks you. Superboy looks at the Blur the same way. Kind of an 'I love you so much but I'm going to strangle you but not really because I love you but you're a _huge_ pain in my ass' sort of thing. That one press conference where someone asked if he was dating the Blur? It got re-uploaded to Capespotting when the Blur and Red Hood became a thing. Which, good cover there, but the exasperated way Jason looked after you blurred in and left a lipstick print on his cheek? I've seen that same look way too many times. All the hair gel and posture changes in the world can't hide it."

That had Kala's eyebrows rising. _Since when…? _ "Shit," Kala muttered. "Also, I had no idea you were on Capespotting. _God_, I hate that site."

"Yeah, you should love it. Once I had a good idea who was who, I started slipping fake sightings into the site where you all have an ironclad alibi," Kristin said with another grin. "Since I used a _Daily Planet_ intern's login to send in the 'anonymous' reports, they got posted as fact."

Oh yeah, that was Mom's adopted newsprint running through her veins. Sneaky little monster. "Do I even wanna _know_ how you got some poor intern's login?" Kala groaned.

"People _really_ shouldn't write their username and password on a post-it note under their keyboard," Kristin said archly. "Bryan actually found it. Rather than turn the guy in, we've been using his login to read the company emails. Bryan figures Perry would be proud. Don't tell Mom, she'll have a fit about my moral degeneration."

"You're terrible," Kala groaned. "Also I need to tell the JLA's information broker that my little sister is inserting fake material on Capespotting. Yes, it's being monitored. Apparently one of the Gotham rogues has someone on their staff."

"I figured you all had to have some badass resources. With all the Bat-gadgets and Lantern sci-fi stuff and alien technology. I admit the photos of Jason and Superboy in the same shot, like Daddy Clark and Superman in the same video, were kinda hard to dismiss, but deepfakes are getting really good these days." Kristin was still remarkably calm about the whole situation.

_Okay, Little Miss Jaded_. Taking in her almost blasé tone, Kala decided to try and shake that up a little. "So, your sister's an alien. Shouldn't be too much for you. Wasn't there a kids' book you liked like that?"

"You're thinking of 'My Teacher Is an Alien!' and the first one was pretty good. The rest got weird. Also, my sister is only half an alien, and all my sister." Kristin shrugged again. "Besides, I was never going to think of you as _aliens_. Dad is like the biggest Superman fan in existence."

"No, I really think _Mom_ is," Kala pointed out.

Kristin snickered. "Yeah, she really got the exclusives all right."

"That joke's been around longer than you've been alive," Kala laughed.

"And it's still funny. Okay. Half my family are aliens. No big. You've been telling people that for years whenever they call you a vampire, and I really wanted to smack you when I finally got the joke," Kristin said. "Now _what_ the hell is my usually sensible despite her massive Goth-ness sister doing dating _the freaking Red Hood_?! Don't even try to backtrack, since I know you're the Blur, that has to be the guy you're seeing. He's the only one deep enough in your life to be a candidate, and if there was anyone else, I would've heard about him." Kristin tried to give her Lana's stern look; she wasn't quite up to her mother's ability on that yet.

"I'm not exactly dating Red Hood," Kala hedged.

That earned her a snort of derision. "What, just sleeping with him?"

Kala winced. "No, more like … I work with Red Hood. I'm dating his civilian identity. Not that he knows how to _have_ a civilian identity, but there's like one diner in Gotham where they regularly see him with the helmet off. And I go there with him to get teased about eating the goat-cheese omelet."

"Okay, that makes some kind of sense," Kristin mused. "So like … all the other people you've dated _weren't_ superheroes, right? I mean, Dustin doesn't put on a cape when we're not looking?"

That one had her laughing at loud. Their favorite mechanic hated drama, and he was far too honest and up-front to maintain a secret identity. "Oh God, no. Hood's the first cape I ever dated. Which comes with its own problems, but then, so does dating civilians. No one else I dated ever knew about Dad."

Kristin looked at her thoughtfully. "That's weird. I mean, I kind of get it? At least the hiding-who-you-are part. Bobby Fisher in the fifth grade asked me if I wanted to be his girlfriend, and I said yes because everyone else was doing it. We were like ten, it only meant holding hands. But once I realized all the other girls in middle school were getting stupid about boys, and I wasn't, I talked it up into some True Love nonsense just so I wouldn't look weird. I know girls who are so far in the closet they have boyfriends and they've actually slept with them – I mean, bisexuals exist, but I know girls who are as gay as Aunt Tobie and they do that. It's not the same thing, at all, but I can't imagine dating someone who didn't know something like that."

Kala flinched. "It's not like I had a choice. 'By the way my father is Superman' is _so_ not a first-date conversation. I mean, even J – even Hood is still kinda looking over his shoulder expecting Dad to show up and slap him across an ocean for getting handsy with his little girl."

Nodding, Kristin said, "I guess I'm being hypocritical, too. I mean, I'm your _sister_ and I didn't know. That's a lot closer than anyone you've dated. So it's like, _who_ you are is more important than _what_ you are. And even though I didn't know all the details on _what_, I know _who_ everyone involved is. Daddy Clark is the same guy, no matter what. And once you know that about him, it's obvious that he's the kind of guy who would stop an asteroid one-handed and then go rescue a kitten from a tree. He's just like that."

Based on how everything had gone down with Sebast, Kala really hadn't expected Kristin to be this calm or reflective about the whole situation. She was, however, extremely grateful for it. No matter how much time she'd had to think about it, the revelation had to have been a shock. Hopefully Sebast could be as accepting, too. "You're the coolest little sister there ever was, you know that? I love you, Little K."

"I love you, too, Big K," Kristin said, as if surprised that it needed to be confirmed. "Although now the future Pulitzer Prize winner in me wants to know _all_ the deets. Who Red Hood really is, if my guess on that is right, what powers you have, how come people think the Blur is a speedster. All that stuff."

Laughing, Kala decided to be a little daring. She let herself float upward from her cross-legged position, watching Kristin's jaw drop. "Mostly we let people think the Blur only has speed for three reasons. One, it was one of the earliest powers to show up and I'm most familiar with using it, so it's harder to hide. Two, if they think I only have speed, the strength and flight and invulnerability and heat-vision will come as a surprise, so I have aces in the hole. And three, if people knew my full power-set, especially the heat-vision, they'd start to think I'm a lot like a Super. We're trying to protect the whole family. Especially you guys and the Troupes."

"Makes sense," Kristin finally said. "Bet you save a fortune in airfare with that."

"And I never need a lighter. Makes it easier to hide the occasional smoke." Kala preferred to downplay it as much as possible, trying not to warp the image of herself in her little sister's mind. Kristin had been okay so far, but really _thinking_ about the powers was what made people nervous most of the time. Even other capes.

The back door opened, and both of them looked around to see Lois stepping out onto the porch. She headed toward them with a rueful smile. "So I hear the cat's out of the bag for our Dormouse."

"Yep. Figured you all out months ago," Kristin replied cheerfully. "Now hire me upstairs, obviously I've got the chops for it."

"Graduate first," Lois shot back. "Kala, put your butt on the bench. Someone could drive by and see you. Also you know you should wear a coat. What if the Carmichaels come over?"

"Dustin will lend her his jacket," Kristin said archly.

Lois laughed at that, even as Kala settled back onto the picnic table. "His girlfriend might not like that. Besides, we're mostly safe out here, but it never pays to get complacent."

"Which is why I can hear all the way to Possum Trot, _Mom_," Kala pointed out, rolling her eyes. "If a car was coming I'd duck back inside."

Kristin stopped swinging, her toes dragging through the snow. "God, I can't imagine how much of daily life is just covering your butt."

"A lot," Kala and Lois deadpanned in unison, both laughing when they realized they'd done it. Lois continued, "And then for us, who are in the know but don't have convenient super-powers to cover our tracks, we end up getting _very_ good at coming up with excuses for everything the rest of them do. Welcome to a lifetime of that."

Kristin nodded. "But they're family. We're going to do everything we can to protect them. I mean, lying to cover up for the kid at school who put Alka-Seltzer in all the toilets is one thing. Lying to cover up for _Superman_? That's not even a moral quandary. Of course I've got everyone's backs."

"This is _so_ not even how I planned to spend my Christmas Eve," Kala sighed.

Lois chuckled. "Oh, but our family _always_ does drama on the holidays. C'mon, girls, let's go inside where it's warm, reassure Elise that she's not a total failure, and we'll share all the stories you haven't heard yet, Kristin."

Kala hopped down, brushing off the seat of her pants. "Might as well. Speaking of which, Little K – Aunt Lucy's family doesn't know. So keep them in the dark, okay?"

"Will do," Kristin replied, extricating herself from the tire swing. "I was the last one in our side of the family to know, huh?"

"Sounds like you figured it out before Sebast, but the two of you were the only holdouts on our side," Lois told her, and Kala tried not to shiver at the casual way Sebast was still considered _family_. God, things were going to be difficult when he came home.

…

Dinah kicked high and punched low, bringing down the last two opponents, and stood panting in the middle of the alley. "Merry freakin' Christmas," she muttered, rolling her shoulders.

Roy strolled toward her, with an arrow nocked but his bowstring not yet drawn, just in case any of the defeated men got frisky. "Gotham really gets into the holiday spirit," he said, with a slight smile. "Glad I could fill in for Huntress tonight."

"Glad to have you," Dinah told him honestly, reaching for zip ties. "Let's clean this up. Congrats, gentlemen, you get to spend Christmas Day in jail."

"Gentlemen's not quite the word I'd choose," Roy opined.

She laughed a little, cuffing groaning thugs. "Well, me neither. Two-Face is getting tense if he's cutting into the Falcones' operations like this. Maybe we'll get a thank-you note for not letting these fools shoot up Carmine's favorite club."

One of the men growled, "Fuck you, bitch," and Dinah kicked him in the belly, pulling it at the last second so she only stole his air, and didn't rupture a spleen or something.

An arrow thunked into the ground scant inches from his nose, and Roy said dangerously, "Watch your mouth unless you want your new street name to be Porcupine."

"Easy, Arsenal," Dinah said, not bother to keep the chuckle out of her voice. "It's been a long night for everyone. I guess these guys are a little upset, with Joker acting out all over town. Anyone know what he's up to next, by any chance?"

None of them answered, but she wasn't really surprised by that. Once all the men were restrained and stacked neatly by their getaway vehicle, she called it in. "Oracle, we're clear here. What's the situation on the home front?"

"GCPD is on the way," Babs replied. "And I'm tolerating the invasion reasonably well. My new doctor says my gingerbread intake is critically low, though."

Dinah laughed merrily. "Nice to know someone's actually celebrating Christmas."

…

Helena Bertinelli was not as observant a Catholic as she should be, these days, but she never missed Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. It had always been her favorite mass as a little girl, one of the few occasions she was allowed to stay up so late. The grand St. Anthony's Catholic Church downtown would be decorated with evergreen boughs, the choir sang Christmas carols, and everyone dressed in festive finery. Something about the cold night outside and the warm light glinting on gold inside, the scent of frankincense and myrrh, and the sound of voices solemnly singing _Adeste, fideles,_ all combined to mean _Christmas_ to her in a way nothing else, not even the presents under the tree or her grandmother's mustazzoli, ever could.

She didn't attend St. Anthony's, these days. It served a wealthy parish where even now she might be recognized, and Helena didn't want to deal with that. All she wanted was a quiet night to stand in the presence of God, among her fellow midnight worshippers, filling her heart with the promise of peace. The weight of all her complications and past sins seemed to fall away, on that one night, and it was something sacred she didn't wish to share with anyone curious about the lost Bertinelli daughter.

So she went to the Church of St. Rita, a smaller and more unassuming structure in the East End. No gold on the altar there, only gold plating, and none of the finery Helena had grown up with in St. Anthony's. The missals were paperback, some of the vestments showed a little wear, and the sacramental wine came from California, not Tuscany. Still, the incense was the same, and the hymns were perhaps even more heartfelt. St. Rita's cash flow went right back into the community, for the most part, another reason why Helena preferred to attend there.

She arrived at a quarter after eleven, bundled up against the cold, and dipped her fingertips in holy water from the marble font just inside the door. Genuflecting despite the chill of the water, Helena went in and chose a pew about halfway back. The church would not be completely full, this late, and the middle section would be comfortably spaced between the stragglers uncomfortable with being here, and those up front too eager to show their piety. She knelt, facing the altar and crossed herself again, then took her seat at the outside of the pew. Lowering the kneeler, she leaned her forearms on the back of the pew in front, and began to quietly pray the rosary, slipping the beads through her fingers easily from long familiarity. Helena knew this was in some ways a meditation, and welcomed the clarity of mind it brought her.

The church was filling up, and Helena was on the second Our Father, when she noticed an elderly woman in a lace mantilla moving hesitantly up the aisle. She sank slowly to one knee at the end of Helena's pew, genuflected before the altar, and then made her way down with careful, mincing steps. She set down her purse, gloved hands trembling slightly, and Helena looked up from her rosary with a welcoming smile…

… that turned to surprise when the older woman winked at her with very familiar green eyes. _Selina Kyle_. All of Helena's serenity vanished. What was Catwoman doing in _her_ church, in disguise no less? "Thou shalt not steal," Helena whispered under her breath, still eyeing Selina as she knelt a little distance away.

"Thou shalt not kill," Selina remarked, but she shrugged. "Then again, honor thy father and mother. We're all sinners here, Helena, just doing our best to get by."

"What brings you to St. Rita's?" Helena murmured, still keeping her voice low. She'd never seen the thief here, but she doubted _Catwoman_ was a regular parishioner.

Then again, few people would believe _Huntress_ was devout.

"I usually go to St. Nicholas'," Selina replied, her voice just as soft. Helena was familiar with that church as well, located in mid-town. She'd visited while searching for a new place of worship, but St. Rita's had felt more like home. Selina continued, "Now is not a good time for me to follow routines. Which is also why I'm incognito tonight."

She had to admit, the disguise was good. Midnight Mass, like the Easter morning and Christmas morning services, attracted a certain number of people who didn't go to church the rest of the year. Those people never knew when they were supposed to sit, stand, or kneel, so they always looked for a little old lady to follow. And there always _was_ a little old lady, or half a dozen of them. Selina had picked a disguise that everyone would look at, but no one would see.

When Helena didn't question her further, Selina took a rosary out of her own pocket. Helena eyed her warily, but her lips moved to the same rhythm of prayer she'd interrupted, and well … it wasn't _that_ much of a stretch. Selina might be authentically Catholic, too.

It was Christmas Eve, and Helena wasn't here as Huntress. She wasn't even here as Helena Bertinelli. She was here as the little girl who had looked at the nativity in awe, feeling wonder and hope blooming in her heart. She closed her eyes and prayed, for forgiveness of her own sins and for the safety of everyone she cared about. Who knew, maybe Selina was doing the same thing.

She didn't even blink in surprise when Selina placed several hundred-dollar bills in the collection plate. _Both_ times it was passed around.

…

Babs felt a headache started behind her eyes, and pulled herself away from the screens. She kept expecting Joker to make a move, either tonight or tomorrow. It was a big holiday, people were moving around, surely he had _something_ planned. Of course, she had also watched the data feeds on the first day of Hanukkah, and she'd be more vigilant on the last day as well. Babs couldn't decide if Joker was more likely to strike out on the holiday because Harley was Jewish, or if he didn't care. Or if he knew that Hanukkah wasn't even the most important holiday in the Jewish calendar; it just got all the attention for falling close to Christmas.

Trying to out-think him was a sure recipe for a migraine. And her available medical staff was highly prejudiced against anything that caused her further stress.

Even as she thought it, a cold stethoscope poked her in the elbow. "You're frownin' again," Lian Harper informed her seriously.

"I am," Babs replied, just as solemnly. "What's your prescription, Dr. Harper?" Lian had found the spare stethoscope and a pair of Babs' old glasses – to make her look smarter, she declared – and instantly decided she was a doctor today. A world-renowned specialist, even, with degrees in neurology and psychology and Bat-ology. Babs had told her that last would be chiropterology, most likely, and Lian had thrilled to the complicated word.

Lian frowned, toying with the stethoscope for a moment. "In the Middle Ages they did bloodletting," she said. "I saw it on History Channel."

"I'm gonna have to call religious exemption on that," Babs replied, smiling. "Besides, we don't have any leeches."

"But you've got knives," Lian pointed out.

Making a mental note to inventory the kitchen before she left, Babs shook her head. "No bloodletting. We need an alternate course of therapy, Doctor."

Lian's eyes brightened, and she scampered out, calling, "Herbal medicine!"

"Helena's going to kill me if she chops down all the windowsill oregano," Babs sighed. "Easy on the plants, Lian!"

"But you need to get better!" Lian called back, dragging a chair across the kitchen floor by the sound.

"Start with a small dosage," Babs said, and wondered if she was old enough to be left alone with scissors. Probably not, so she wheeled away from the computer to go supervise the production of Dr. Harper's Miracle Sad-Face Cure.

It did occur to her that part of her headache was from staring at the screens, and pulling her away from them both physically and mentally probably _was_ the best prescription for her stress.

…

Jay woke up tired and sore, lying in bed for a while and taking inventory of what hurt. That wasn't unusual. He'd patrolled last night, and though the details were hazy, it was like any other patrol. He gave out more punishment than he took, but the city was still unsettled and every night was tough.

Right now, Jay was roaming the streets with _Tim_. Roy was running around with the Birds, and Dick was taking Donna around just to rattle some of the bad guys. Jay managed a laugh at that. The poor bastards never expected _Troia_ to roll up on them. Meanwhile Bruce was off mostly doing surveillance, trying to locate Joker – or Harley and Ivy. If he found them, he figured he'd find Joker soon after.

Selina was staying in, and she'd already gotten antsy after a couple of days. Jay'd been shocked to find her playing _fetch_ down the length of the second-floor hallway with three of her cats. He hadn't even known cats could learn fetch.

God, he missed Kala. Tim was quick, precise, and talented, but Jay had gotten used to someone who didn't side-eye his crazier ideas. And the powers were nice, too.

He yawned and stretched, and heard a complaining _mrrr_. "Goddammit, Norway," Jay sighed, and picked up the little furball who'd gotten in _again_ and slept on his chest. He held her up over his face, her legs dangling and her big green eyes blinking. "You're not my cat. I don't need a cat. I don't even _like_ cats. And you shouldn't be in here."

She yawned, showing him a pink mouth full of brilliantly white teeth, and then stretched herself. One small fuzzy paw gently batted his nose.

Jay sighed. "It'd serve you right if I just ate you in three bites. Om nom nom."

"Maow," she complained, but didn't struggle. She _had_ claws, he'd seen her run nimbly up the patterned wallpaper much to Alfred's horror, but she'd never struck out at him.

Then again, Alfred was close to a nervous breakdown by now. The other day he'd gone to polish a suit of armor, and the moment he touched the visor, it shrieked at him in a demonic voice. Well, it _sounded_ demonic; as it turned out, the tabby Bolt had gotten inside, and the sound of her kittenish yowl amplified by the steel armor was a thing of nightmares. She'd leapt out of the visor and across Alfred's shoulder, leaving him to exclaim "My _word_!" in tones almost identical to Jay's most distressed "Jesus _fuck_!"

That was after the black cat Lydia had jumped out of the bookcase as Alfred reshelved books, knocking a dozen of them to the floor and startling the butler as well. It hadn't helped when they were all in the living room, enjoying some hot cocoa, and Bruce froze, staring at one of the cats. "Selina, that is a serval," he said disapprovingly.

"Savannah cat," Selina corrected, as the animal approached her. Jay had looked more closely at it, and it _was_ weird looking, much leggier and overall bigger than a normal cat, with a longer head, enormous ears, and a short stumpy tail.

"Savannah cats are hybrids. That's a pure serval," Bruce said, frowning.

Tim had piped up with, "Don't you need a permit for those?"

"You _do_ need a permit to own a serval," Selina replied. "And you need a badge to arrest criminals. You _definitely_ need permits to climb buildings, or drive a souped-up not-street-legal car at speeds in excess of a hundred miles an hour through residential areas. Your point?"

"Dude, you brought a damn wild animal over?" Jay had said, eyeing the cat.

Selina had held her hand out, and it hopped up into her chair, butting its head against her hand. "Franklin is a registered Savannah cat. He's an F1 hybrid, or more technically, a backcross, since he's three-quarters serval and one-quarter domestic cat. His mother was a registered Savannah and his father was a serval. He was sold as a pet to a very wealthy woman who wanted an exotic cat to show off, but who didn't know they need special diets and lots of training and interaction to stay healthy. That didn't work out very well for her, did it, Frankie boy?" Selina had scratched down his spine, the big spotted cat stamping his front feet and chattering his teeth.

Jay had just shaken his head. Of course Selina had stolen the damn thing. And of course it was now roaming around Wayne Manor, jumping to the top of doors and nine-foot-tall cabinets in a single leap, and playing in the sink since apparently servals liked water. At least it wasn't a leopard.

Norway patted Jay's face again, recalling him to the present, and he put her down, feeling her rumbling purr echo through his chest. "You guys are definitely putting a twist on the Christmas spirit this year."

It dawned on him then: this was _Christmas morning_.

Alfred was making them all a special breakfast, Babs and the Birds were coming over to open presents, and despite how weird it all was Jay found himself looking forward to the chaos.

Most importantly of all, Kala would be here tonight.


	27. Then at Least I Bring You Hope

**Authors' Note:** Hang in there, dear readers. We are both still safe, and hope that all of you are as well.

A note about the cats in this chapter: most of Selina's named cats are based on real-life cats we know, or own. Norway and Batty really are sisters, Norway really will climb your clothes and perch on your shoulder, and Batty really does demand the Bat-tax and get into hilariously awkward predicaments. Little Norway just got spayed yesterday, and she's pretty miserable - she's stayed bundled up in a plush blanket with us most of the day. Much to the chagrin of our Nicki (on whom we based the regal Miss Kitty), who normally hangs out on our bed. Coauthor Anissa is entirely too worried about Norway making a swift and complete recovery, so prayers for Norway's healing and coauthor Lois' sanity during this time are appreciated.

Without further ado, the chapter.

* * *

"Guyot-Perrin timed that press release perfectly," Mercy Graves admitted. "Their stock price soared right before the exchanges closed for the holiday."

"And now they don't have to reasonably _prove_ anything until after the new year," Lex Luthor grumbled. The two of them were nearly alone at the compound; in this time zone, it had been Christmas Day for several hours already, and most of their people had been given leave to celebrate.

That was Mercy's doing, not Luthor's. He didn't care much for holidays, seeing them as a waste of time, but the people he employed did cherish that waste, so Mercy had convinced him to allow for the inevitable drop in productivity. It was only a day, after all.

"It's likely they do have a substantial lead on production," Mercy replied, looking over the data siphoned from Guyot-Perrin's servers. "We're not able to get as much information as before, but from what I can see, they'll have a prototype solar panel as good as ours by second quarter. I suspect that, once they had fresh samples, Wayne Enterprises caved and began working with them. They're the only ones with security this good."

"I do so _hate_ letting the al Ghuls get away with this," he mused. "I know, I know, it's not worth it to pursue them."

"And if we make enemies like that, it just serves to embolden all the little fish in the pond," Mercy reminded him.

"I know. There aren't that many people of our caliber on this side of things. And no one has the resources the League of Shadows does." That was galling, to have to hold back. Ra's al Ghul and his daughter had entirely too much money, influence, and manpower. The one thing Luthor _did_ have against them was a Lazarus Pit on the grounds here, and apparently _that_ wouldn't be active again for a century or more after it had been used once.

Just as well. That kind of immortality was dangerously tempting.

Lex sighed. "Still, if we see an opportunity to black their eyes without too much fear of retribution…"

"Oh, of course," Mercy said, smiling her cold smile. "I'd be delighted to."

Both of them chuckled, but Lex turned at the sound of a door opening. Scion strolled into the room, his eyes mapping it in a glance before he focused his gaze – and his trajectory – on the table at which Lex and Mercy were sitting. As always, Lex looked upon what he had wrought with a sense of wonder. This single success out of hundreds of failures, this one case where Krypton's mighty technology had not failed his goals, was a source of surpassing interest and equal caution.

The boy looked quite ordinary, black-haired and light-eyed, fair-skinned despite his constant exposure to sunlight and artificial UV rays. A little slim for his age, but not frail. He was, most of the time, obedient and respectful, perennially curious about the world outside their lab. Scion knew, of course, that it wasn't safe for him out there. Luckily his confidence in his powers hadn't subsumed his natural caution.

Mercy was of the opinion that if he _did_ get loose, he'd find his way back quickly. This _was_ the only home he'd ever known, and they were the only people to whom he had any attachment. The way children of his age were treated by the general public, with fawning attention or dismissive condescension, would be off-putting to him, with his adult vocabulary and restraint.

Lex thought the same, but the boy might wreak all manner of havoc on the way. They'd tried to raise him like a true Kryptonian, with that culture's typical touch-aversion, in order that he might be as authentic as possible to the mostly-functional AI they possessed. As he grew up, he'd conceived a great dislike for being touched, and a willingness to defend his personal space vigorously. Lex and Mercy had encouraged that simply by backing him up to the staff members who made the mistake of patting him patronizingly on the shoulder, and now no one dared intrude on him.

Everyone knew what he was, and the regular tests of his powers showed that they were growing exponentially. No one knew when or _if_ those powers would ever top out. He already had most of the well-known ones, including heat-vision. And invulnerability. Only Mercy and Lex were comfortable around him now, and even so, they were wary. Trying to confine a subject as intelligent and inquisitive as this would be counterproductive, though, so he had the freedom to explore most places in the compound. Very little was off-limits, and that was only for his own safety. He already had a healthy dread of kryptonite, and he'd never been intentionally exposed to it.

"Good morning," Lex said to him.

"Good morning, Luthor, Ms. Graves," he replied solemnly. "It is very quiet today. And what is the meaning of this?"

He placed a snow globe on the table in front of them, something he must have found on someone's desk elsewhere in the facility. Inside it, a miniature Santa Claus stood with one hand upraised, a sack of toys over his back. A decorated tree stood beside the figure, and the ground was snow-covered. Overall, it definitely couldn't be called art, but it had a certain humble cheer that Lex supposed some of his employees appreciated.

"An icon of a particular holiday being celebrated today," Mercy answered for him. "It's common, but we do not observe it. Many of the employees do."

Scion raised his brows in a request for more information, and Lex stepped in. "You've read about Christianity. Today is Christmas."

"I am aware," the boy replied. "I do not understand why a man in a red suit carrying toys is part of the iconography."

"Crass materialism," Lex told him, smiling a little. Very few children under ten could pronounce 'iconography', much less use it naturally in a sentence. _This_ one had had the benefit of Lex's tutoring from the moment he could speak. "There is a long-standing tradition of giving gifts at Christmas. One of the Christian saints, Saint Nicholas, was known for his charity. Over time, various traditions merged to portray him as someone who brings gifts to good children each year on the supposed anniversary of Christ's birth. Much of the current practice is bound up in retailers' efforts to convince people to spend more money than they can actually afford. The entire last quarter of the fiscal year becomes a frenzy of greed and gluttony. Most years, a specific toy becomes the one item every child _must _have, and adults will physically assault one another in stores to obtain said toy. Frankly, it's ridiculous."

Scion frowned. "There are days when I suspect your entire species is ridiculous, Luthor. Present company excepted."

Mercy shrugged. "Any culture, examined from the outside, will have nonsensical contradictions. I happen to agree with you. For generations, adults have spent vast amounts of time and energy trying to maintain their children's belief in Santa Claus. The realization that it's all a fiction is considered a watershed moment in a person's young life."

The boy sneered. "In that case, you have my gratitude for sparing me such foolishness."

Lex chuckled. It often surprised him to feel pride in Scion; he had never intended to feel anything for the boy. Scion was a tool, a particularly well-crafted one that had already proven useful. Craftsmen appreciated their tools, of course, but rarely took pride in them.

Then again, Scion was a tool Lex himself had crafted. His superlative success reflected on his creator. Perhaps pride was only logical.

Lex let himself smile fondly. "You're very welcome. Above all else, we do strive to keep your life rational."

"And I am glad of it," the boy said. He looked at the snow globe and shook his head disdainfully. Then with a nod to them both, he went back out.

Mercy looked after him, and shrugged. "Most children his age would be willing to believe anything for presents."

"He's always gotten anything he wanted," Lex pointed out. "And he is very unlike any other child his age."

Mercy nodded, watching the boy thoughtfully. "They're never going to know what hit them," she chuckled.

…

Christmas morning, the Lane-Kents and Whites woke up leisurely. Kala had been up with the dawn and took over the kitchen alongside her father, starting coffee and breakfast for everyone. Once breakfast was done, they would also get the main meal started, since the turkey took a long time to roast and they were dining a little early this year.

As Kala ducked past her father to get a whisk, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug. Laughing, Kala hugged him back. "I love you, too, Daddy."

"I do love you. And I miss having you and Jason all to ourselves," Clark admitted with a fond smile. "At the same time, I'm so proud of you, Kala, for everything you've done. I guess that's part of having children – you miss them when they grow up, but you're excited for them, too."

She kissed his cheek. "Yeah, well, you lucked out in the kids department. Not everyone can say their daughter is a bona fide rock star. And we're halfway through the tour. Pretty soon I'll be home again enough that you'll be sick of me."

"I am lucky, and I could never be sick of you," Clark agreed, and gave her another squeeze. Somehow just that brief hug restored a lot of Kala's equilibrium, and she set about making breakfast with a light heart.

By the time the bacon started frying, everyone was up and moving around. Christmas morning was the one day of the year when Ma and Pa Kent had eaten breakfast in the parlor, around the tree, instead of at the table. Jason and Elise were continuing the tradition, and though he headed into the kitchen to help cook, Kala shoved him back out the door with two mugs of coffee. "Not today, Dopey. Merry Christmas, get lost," she told him gently. "Enjoy being catered to for once. Your life's about to get crazy."

That got her a grateful smile. "Merry Christmas, Elvira. And, oh God, tell me about it," Jase groaned, kissing her cheek briefly, but he went to sit with Elise gratefully. Soon they were all arranged around the tree.

Kristin, as the youngest, was in charge of distributing presents once they all finished eating. She'd no sooner sat down in front of the stack piled around the tree than her eyes narrowed. "This one wasn't here yesterday morning," she said, pointing to a package wrapped in plain green paper.

With a merry gleam in her eye, Kala smirked with evil glee. Yep, absolutely waiting for that one to be seen. "Open it last. I made a quick run last night, before everything closed."

Looking at her, Kristin rolled her eyes. "Isn't that cheating? Using your powers for last minute gifts?"

Now Kala grinned. "Time-honored Lane-Kent tradition, I'll have you know."

That set the whole family chuckling; Lois especially laughed aloud, and elbowed Clark, who smiled at that. "Yeah, cheating, maybe. But _this_ one's been dragging me all over the country at the last minute since before we got married. He even used it as an excuse to get me out of the house so he could ask me to marry him!"

That got a pleased, very genuine smile from Dad, who beamed right back at her. "It was worth it to see you surprised," Clark told her.

_Oh God, there they go_. "Don't complain, Dormouse," Kala warned Kristin, nimbly switching the subject. "Every year I fly the Dopester to Paris for a little holiday shopping, and nobody ever dislikes those gifts."

"The _Dopester_?!" Jason said, flinching, glaring at her. Oh, that expression of disgust and outrage was a thing of beauty. "Ugh, lose that one."

That had the exact response Kala had been hoping for. "Okay, Iguanaman," Kala laughed at him.

Kristin started handing out gifts, and they all got down to the serious business of opening them all. Jason and Elise had already gotten everything they needed for the twins at a baby shower, so these gifts were strictly theirs. Every package included a hand-written coupon for a free meal or a night of babysitting; the rest of the family knew just how much having children could turn a life upside-down.

All three married couples had gotten each other touchingly thoughtful gifts, as usual, which left Kala and Kristin rolling their eyes. There were a few playful gifts, too – Kristin got a hundred dollars to spend, but Richard had gotten it in dollar coins and frozen them in a large block of ice. Her expression unwrapping the foam cooler was dubious, and then when she lifted out the ice block she just looked at her father despairingly. Lana sighed and cradled her head in her palm. Ah, Daddy Richard's gifts never changed, bless him.

Among Jason's other gifts, Kala had found a small Godzilla figure he didn't already own. Of course, she'd also found a dollhouse trash can to fit over its head, and a pair of even smaller toy iguanas, to which she'd attached pink bows. Elise burst out laughing. "Canhead Godzilla and his baby lizards," she chortled. "Wait a sec, where am I?"

Truthfully, Kala hadn't found an appropriate representation for Elise, but Jason stepped in smoothly. "Your awesomeness can't be contained in a figurine. It'd be like opening the Ark of the Covenant or something. You'd melt everyone's faces off."

It was clearly the right answer, from the way his wife glanced at him, shooting him a grin. Laughing, Elise added, "Yeah, and the Mothra position is taken. Awkward as that may be."

That was yet another family joke, the twins never having guessed the relationship between the two _kaiju_. The family tended to try to forget it, too. "Don't make it weirder," Kristin warned.

They were all feeling cozy, with good food and good gifts and the particular warmth that came from being on the inside of a shared secret. Most of the time Kala had mixed feelings about her double life; having to hide things from the people closest to her just _hurt_. But with Kristin now in the know, her immediate family circle was enclosed with the group of people who knew she was Kryptonian and loved her even knowing that. And Kala basked in the safety of being known and loved.

The very last gift was the one in green paper, which Kristin picked up with her auburn brows cocked dubiously. "It says, 'To Little K, From Big K.' Kala, when did you get this?"

"Yesterday," Kala admitted. "I managed to sneak out for a bit right after lunch. I was gonna go get something similar for your birthday, but … you'll see why you got it early."

Still eyeing her sister, Kristin tore the wrapping paper and opened the box. Her mouth twisted in a wry smile, and she lifted out a dark green t-shirt with the Slytherin crest front and center. "Look, when I said I was leaning into it, that was _not_ a hint."

"What did I miss?" Richard asked.

Kala smirked at her little sister. "Someone decided she was going to get the truth about my boyfriend out of me, by whatever means necessary. Joke's on you, Dormouse, because I'm headed that way after we eat."

Kristin pouted a little at that, but she also noticed the box was still rather heavy. She began to pull things out, wrapped in tissue paper: a coffee mug with the house crest and 'ambitious' written on it, a pair of knee-high green and silver striped socks, a beautifully-made house crest keychain, and finally, a small green enamel pin that read, 'Head Girl'. Holding it, Kristin looked up at Kala with a smile. "Okay, you're a jerk, but you're a jerk who spoils your little sister. I love you, Big K."

"I love you too, Little K. And if we've got a Slytherin in the family, she's gonna be the best damn Slytherin there ever was. Go catch me a basilisk or something."

"With our luck, if she _did,_ Jason would want to keep it for a pet," Elise sighed. Kala smiled at her; with all the holiday prep out of the way and dinner cooking, Elise was much calmer. She sat on the love seat beside Jason, her fingers threaded through his, her free hand resting on the rather dramatic curve of her belly.

"You know, there _is_ a lizard in the pet trade called a basilisk," Jason pointed out, and _everyone_ groaned as Elise loudly vetoed the idea.

…

Jay had spent most of Christmas Day just trying to stay out from underfoot. _Everyone_ was there for the main meal, served at noon, and they exchanged gifts beforehand. Jay had sweated a little about what to get them all; he could figure out Bruce and the boys and Alfred, Selina would at least laugh at something cat-themed, and he'd picked up some good Sicilian wine for Helena, but what the hell did you get Babs? Or Dinah? Shit, what about _Lian_, what did nine-year-old assassin babies even _like_? Even Doc Leslie was here, and Jay had broken down and asked Alfred what to get _her_.

He was at least having some fun, though, because with all of them under the same roof – plus thirty-some fuckin' cats – things got hilariously weird. Selina started it off, of course, by giving Helena a hug and planting a necklace on her. It gradually became clear that Selina was going to give out _all_ her gifts via stealth and sleight of hand. Just because she could.

Jay avoided her, because he didn't like anyone being able to reach into his pockets without him knowing. He should've known it was hopeless; she managed to sneak cufflinks into Bruce's pocket, but her triumph was getting a pair of earrings actually into Dinah's ears without Dinah noticing. His own gift appeared in his pocket, a simple card thanking him for an anonymous donation made in his name to one of the charities that provided free health care for at-risk children. "Smooth," Jay admitted.

"I'm the best at what I do." Selina purred.

Alfred walked into the parlor where they'd all gathered with a tense expression. He had been _slightly_ mollified by his gift, a very large bottle of expensive gin, but now he fixed Selina with a laser-like stare worthy of a Kryptonian. Behind him, Leslie was trying and failing to contain laughter. Alfred simply said, "Miss Kyle, would you please assist me in the foyer?"

"Oh, no," Selina groaned, and Jay followed, because the damn cats were _funny_.

One long strand of garland hung down from the the archway above the foyer, the lights blinking, and halfway up its length the large black cat, Batty, clung by her claws. Her weight made the garland revolve slowly, and when she saw three humans approaching, she called out a strident _mrraaahhh_ for help. She was currently some fifteen feet off the floor, which was apparently too high for her to jump down.

An answering _maow_ sounded from right behind Jay, and in the next second he felt claws pricking their way up his jeans and his shirt, until Norway perched herself on his shoulder. She let out her demanding cry again, close enough to Jay's face to make him wince in the wash of her salmon-scented breath. "Ow, you presumptuous little…"

Leslie stayed in the doorway, so as not to further spook the cat. "Selina, how'd she even get up there?"

"Who even knows. She might've tried to climb the wall to play with the ribbon and got herself stuck when the garland came down. Alfred, I am so sorry. They're not this much trouble at home." Selina looked genuinely chagrined.

"I would assume that you have learned over the years to avoid tempting them with decorations, a skill I regrettably lack," Alfred said, with great dignity. "When I approach, she climbs further up the garland, and I would prefer not to get out the cherry-picker. I shall bring the ladder for you."

"We might not need it," Selina said, and walked over to where the end of the garland hung just above her. Holding her arms out, she called, "Batty-Bat, come on, girl. Mama's got you. Jump, baby."

Batty gave a yodeling, complaining cry, and Norway on Jay's shoulder yelled again. The big cat hunched her shoulders, and Jay thought she was going to climb higher, but instead she launched herself off the garland and fell with no evidence of feline grace whatsoever.

Selina caught her, having to dip almost to the floor to break her fall, and Jay winced. He'd seen Batty leap with her paws outspread and her claws unsheathed, but somehow Selina didn't get scratched. She cuddled Batty close, petting her soothingly, while the big black cat made an astonishing series of complaining noises. "It's okay, Baby Bat, I know, you're a silly girl to scare yourself like that."

Jay looked up at the dangling garland, and said, "Hey, Alfred, maybe we should get Donna to tack that back up. No sense bringing out the heavy equipment when we have a flier in the house."

Selina kissed the top of Batty's head, the cat's grumbling subsiding to a purr. "Do Amazons use their powers for such trivial purposes?"

"Fixing the Christmas decorations so Alfred has one less thing to do is hardly trivial," Leslie replied, and Norway meowed in seeming agreement, making Jay wince.

"I shall certainly inquire," Alfred said. "Thank you, Miss Kyle."

He turned to go, and Selina called after him, "Thank you for not throwing me and my cats bodily out into the snow, Alfred. I know it's a whole other level of chaos beyond what Bruce has ever brought home."

Alfred paused for a smile. "On the contrary, Master Bruce has brought home all of his children, who certainly introduced an unprecedented amount of chaos into my life. You and yours are merely compressing all of it into a few days."

"Personally I rather like the house being full of the pitter-patter of tiny feet," Leslie put in, linking her arm through Alfred's on their way out.

Selina smiled sheepishly as they left, and then looked at Jay. "Well, merry Christmas, anyway."

Jay sighed and stretched, Norway finally leaping down from his shoulder. "Yeah, merry Christmas."

She arched a brow at him. "Oh come on. It's only another couple hours, then your _main_ present will show up."

Jay glowered at her, but Selina only laughed.

…

Christmas at _Wayne Manor_ was going to be a capital-E Event, and Kala knew it. She had been thinking about it all day, a constant backdrop to all her conversations. Honestly, she felt torn. Part of her wanted to stay here with her family, on one of the most family-focused days of the year. Elise needed all the support she could get, and having Kristin in the loop was a change to the overall dynamic that needed to be explored before they could all truly settle into it.

But she hadn't seen Jay at all in almost two weeks, and his texts had an undercurrent of anxiety. He really wasn't used to being home full-time, or having his whole family around, too. Kala couldn't decide if it was the constant proximity driving him nuts, or the fact that he sort of _liked_ it. No matter the reason, she yearned to be with him, and maybe alleviate some of his concerns.

She also just missed him. Kala couldn't help laughing at herself; she was damn near _pining_ like some romance heroine. At least she'd finally get to see Jay again today.

It was Lois who finally rumpled her hair and took the nearly-finished cup of hot cocoa out of her hand. The main meal was finished, and the desserts were polished off, but Kala had been in the parlor, lingering over the cocoa. Her mother looked at her with wise eyes and said, "All right, kiddo. Time to fly."

All Kala could say at first was a very eloquent, "Huh?"

Her mother shook her head slightly. "Kala. I love you, we all love you. But it's not fair that you haven't been able to go see Jay yet. Go on. We'll catch you back in Metropolis. It's not like you can't fly in and see us all anytime."

Richard had come up behind her, and added, "Now that Kristin knows – well, now that we _know_ she knows – you can fly over to our place too. Gotta admit, I'm proud of her."

Lois' mouth curved up in a smirk. "Who knows, maybe you can bring Jay over to our place for the next holiday. Your aunts will love that."

Kala blanched. At Thanksgiving, she'd managed to deflect most questions about Jay, although her aunts had briefly given her a little hell for not bringing him over. Aunt Maggie in particular looked suspicious because of the scant information, but then, she'd been a police officer for over thirty years. Suspicious was her natural state. Tobie and Cat and Lucy were only interested to see how much trouble she'd gotten herself into.

If she actually _brought_ Jay to a gathering of her whole family? Not only would that make blatantly clear all the things they both avoided saying, Jay would probably fake a heart attack to get away from all the journalistic scrutiny.

Lois looked at her shrewdly, and not for the first time Kala thought that her mother could see every thought flickering across her mind. She didn't need to say anything; her hazel eyes, the same shade as Kala's, were warm with understanding. Of all people, Lois knew what it was like to be hopelessly in love with a man, to count the hours until she could see him again, how to try to act like it wasn't constantly in the back of your mind, and to worry about the collision course of her life and his.

Jason surprised Kala by sneaking up behind her and hugging her, lifting her off the ground. "It's okay, Elvira. You're allowed."

Feeling a little guilt that she was being so damned obvious about it, Kala looked around at all of them with a dismayed expression. Christmas was only once a year, the only time the lot of them were guaranteed to be in one place. She was going back on tour soon and it would March before she was free to go wherever she liked, whenever she liked, for however long she liked. Every trip would be stealing time, until then. "I'm never the first to leave," Kala complained, meeting all of their eyes.

"Mostly because you're scoping out leftovers," Lana said gently, taking her turn to hug her. She glanced at Richard and smiled. "It really is all right, Kala. Even if it's just this once. Even I ran off with a man on Christmas."

"And we're all grateful to you for taking that troublemaker off the market," Lois cut in. Lana just shot her an amused look, Richard cuffing at her.

When Kala would've whined again, Clark put a hand on her shoulder. "Sweetheart, we understand. Give Alfred a hug from all of us."

"And flip the bird at Bruce and Babs for me," Elise added, rising to take her turn to hug her. "Give Tim a high-five, though."

As the girls had a moment, Richard had stepped behind Lois to rest his chin on her shoulder, his ex looking back and up at him. "You still love me."

"Well, clearly I love you, Richard. All these years and I haven't gotten rid of you yet," Lois laughed, nudging him with her chin. She reached back for a one-armed hug that said more about their friendship than any words could.

Kala felt entirely wrapped up in her family's warmth, immensely grateful to have all of them. Even Kristin got in on the act, poking her gently in the side. "You can go, if I can watch you take off. This whole _flying_ thing takes some getting used to."

That was a huge understatement, she knew from experience. Oh, the baby of the family had so, so much to learn now about life with Supers. And she had to admit, Kala herself was really looking forward to it. "Tell me about it," Kala laughed. "Try being the one doing the piloting, after hoping for it for ten years."

"And in dramatic fashion, too," Clark sighed, the two of them sharing a look. Remembering, Kala had to laugh again, hugging her father. Yeah, teenage life with her had been almost too much for Superman, she knew.

Jason told Kristin, "She used to try and kick-start it whenever Dad flew us up to the Fortress. She'd just let go of his arm and _drop_. One time he waited until she was less than ten feet off the ground to catch her. Still didn't stop her."

"Do _not_ fly with her," Elise warned. "Kala's a born adrenaline junkie. I let Jason's ex-girlfriend fly me around when I really need to commute."

"Kala flies like a fighter pilot," Jason added.

Richard, who had _been_ a fighter pilot, chuckled. "No, she's way more maneuverable than any jet. That said, I'd have a _lot_ of problems if I had the powers."

Kala just rolled her eyes. The same things were always trotted out every time powers were brought up. So, she liked fast. She'd been _born_ to it. "You'd be as bad as me, Daddy Richard, and we all know it. Okay, all right. Of course you can watch the takeoff, Little K. I guess I'll grab my stuff, if you're all throwing me out."

"We're not throwing you out," Jason correcting, walking over to her and Dad and hugging her again. "But we all know you miss him. You said yourself that you haven't really seen him since our birthday. You miss us, too, but it's easier to see us. Smallville and Metropolis are both a lot safer than Gotham, after all. We get more downtime."

"And you've also been moping for a week," Lois pointed out, the lot of them chuckling warmly.

Yep, absolutely so much for being subtle. They knew; better to just accept that. Leaning against her brother, Kala sighed. And they were right; she'd promised to be there tonight and the hour was getting later. It was a week. When she got home, there would still be two weeks before she had to meet up with the boys. If she tried really hard, there was still a chance to see them all one more time. "I love you, Jase. I love all of you. Thank you."

Clark tugged ever so gently on a lock of her hair. "Sweetheart, we just want you to be happy. And Jay makes you happy. Go to him. We love you; we'll always be here for you."

And that was almost enough to make her start crying. Kala managed to duck all of them, hurrying upstairs to grab her bag, and stuffing the new plush throw she'd gotten into it alongside some clothes. When she went to head out, Kristin was at her door. "Kala, you really are hung up on this guy," she said wonderingly.

_Yes,_ Kala's heart said, but all she admitted aloud was, "We haven't seen each other in weeks."

The redhead crossed her arms, looking thoughtful. "Still. It's _Gotham_. I hear stuff about that city, and I can't believe _Mom_ ever lived there."

"Lana was living in Bristol. It's the rich side of town, so it's usually safe. The cops come in minutes, and everyone has alarm systems and fences and gated communities," Kala explained. "The _work_ is downtown, and the East End. There are expensive places around there, but mostly it's the poorer part of Gotham. And it's where all the bad guys like to play. Gotham would be bad enough with the gangs and the mob, but once you add the masks…" She trailed off, shrugging. What was there to say? Gotham had one of the most dangerous rogues' galleries out there.

"And you go there all the time. To fight those people." Kristin sounded like the words tasted funny in her mouth. "I've heard you scream bloody murder when there was a spider in the bathroom, but Elise said you went up against some of the big names."

Kala had to stop and think about it. "I don't … well, okay. I go there to _protect_ the ordinary people. The ones who can't shrug off a bullet or a knife. If the bad guys wanna hurt them, then they have to deal with _me_."

Kristin cocked her head, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Do you know your whole voice and expression changed on that last word? Like you were my dorky Goth sister right up until you said that, and suddenly, _boom_, there's the Blur."

Giving her a sad little smile, Kala said, "I think all three of us do it. And we don't really think about it, either. All of us are two people, minimum. Jason's the least divided. But Dad and Superman and Mr. Kent around the office, and then me with the Kala you know and KLK and the Blur." And the Empress, Kala would never forget her shadow-self, but this wasn't the time to explain it to her sister – who was the age she'd been when her psyche had fractured.

Looking at Kristin, it was hard to believe Kala had survived those events at the same age. At sixteen she'd thought herself basically an adult; at twenty-four she realized she'd still had much of her childhood left inside her. Luthor and Zod had burned a lot of it away, and she'd _enjoyed_ being treated like a kid for a couple more years, not having to take adult responsibility just yet.

Now she did, and for all of Kristin's intelligence and insight, she wanted her sister to be able to hold on to some of that innocence a little longer. Let her believe that heroes weren't complicated, just for a few more years.

To that end, Kala grinned at her. "Wanna see why they tell you not to fly with me?"

Kristin grinned back. "I'm my father's daughter. I think they underestimate me. You know how much I like roller coasters."

Laughing, Kala headed back into the room and opened the window. "You can see five miles down the road from here," she told Kristin, who followed and looked out alongside her. Kala checked, seeing no cars on the road, no one outside the other houses on the road either. "See the big oak tree at the bend?"

"Yeah?" Kristin asked, and Kala took off. She couldn't break the sound barrier so close to the house, so she pulled for height first, and _then_ kicked in the speed. Five miles in fifteen seconds, she hit the tree with both boots just hard enough to knock the snow off its branches, and then she was back, slowing down abruptly. It honestly took her longer to vertically depart from and approach the farmhouse than to cover the horizontal distance, and there was still a rolling crack like thunder as the air she'd displaced slammed back together in her wake.

Kala ended up back inside the room, and Kristin turned from the shaken tree to her sister with her blue eyes gone wide. From her perspective, Kala had just disappeared and reappeared, with only the sonic boom and the falling snow to prove she'd covered the distance. "No freaking way," she whispered, and then laughed. "Kala, that's _cool_! That's seriously the coolest thing I've ever seen!"

"I went up before I went out," Kala explained. "Jason would be real mad if I broke all the windows. The thing is, if I take someone with me, they can't be hurt. Our bio-field protects us and whoever we're carrying, but your body still tries to tell you that you're going to die at that speed."

"I can see that," Kristin said with a little shake in her voice. "_Wow_."

"It's pretty wow," Kala admitted, and drew Kristin into a hug.

The redhead squeezed her extra-tight, asking, "Can you actually feel that?"

Kala laughed again. "Yes, we're not numb. We can feel everything. The invulnerability just stops us from taking too much damage. I can still feel getting hit by a car, it just doesn't hurt as much as it should."

"You got hit by a car?" Kristin asked, looking dismayed.

"Long story. I promise, Kristin, I'll answer anything you want after I get back from Gotham," Kala said, kissing her forehead. "I've gotta go."

Kristin smirked, "Go on, then. I hope your boyfriend knows he's lucky."

"He does," Kala told her, and soared off at a more reasonable pace, aware of Kristin watching her. She kept going up until the farmhouse looked no bigger than a postage stamp below her, checking the air around her for birds or aircraft. Only then did Kala plot her course, and let herself fly like she was _really_ in a hurry.

…

In the middle of the afternoon, Stephanie woke up to the smell of food. She and Cass were still camping in the Tibesti mountains; they had a rough idea of where the League of Shadows' compound was, but Shiva's people hadn't tried to take it yet. And they still didn't know what was there that Shiva wanted so much. It seemed remote, and lightly guarded, as if it didn't matter to Ra's al Ghul. The whole mission was frustrating as hell … but the news she got from Gotham made her glad to be away, for once. Babs had told them about Joker's increasing violence, and Steph wanted no part of it.

It had been years since Steph had had a traditional American Christmas dinner, and she'd mostly resigned herself to pining for the memories. A roast chicken was usually as close as she could get. Her palate had adapted, and treating them to a spread of delicious side dishes was now part of her own Christmas tradition.

And somehow, this year Cass had come through to scare up a decent meal. She was unpacking a basket full of things, fresh bread, a crock of soup, a wrapped package of meat pies, savory vegetables … Steph's mouth began to water, but her natural caution sent a frisson of warning down her spine. "Cass, I love you. How did you get all this stuff?"

Cass looked down, embarrassed. "Stole. Left money."

"Sweetheart, you didn't have to do this for me. Thank you," Steph told her. She knew Cass wouldn't have stolen from a poor family, she wouldn't take food from the mouths of those who needed it. But some prosperous trader was going to be _very_ angry, if perplexed by the money left behind.

Cass herself had been raised without holiday traditions. She'd celebrated Christmas because Steph and Doc Leslie did, but she didn't subscribe to any particular religion, either. For her, this time of year was simply about the people she loved best. And Steph had never needed words to know that she was part of that elite group.

Steph cupped her girlfriend's face, and kissed Cass gently. All the isolation and worry and danger was worth it for Cass' smile.

…

Kala touched down in Gotham with a little guilt nagging at her. Normally she was the last to leave a family gathering, and not even explicit permission to go could shake the feeling that she was neglecting them. She pushed it all aside, focusing on the present, and the reunion she'd thought about for days.

For a moment, Kala stood on the front lawn, looking up at the lighted windows. The Manor had been trimmed in tasteful white lights, and she could see the enormous Christmas tree in the main foyer. _I should've come to help them decorate that, it's thirty freaking feet tall,_ she thought, and shook her head. Alfred had the situation in hand.

She would've expected everyone to be indoors, but she heard a faint crunch, a squeal, and laughter from around back. Jay's heartbeat was back there, too. Kala headed that way, curious; she hadn't recognized the voice. Her boots squeaked in the snow, and the chilly breeze plucked at her coat. She'd tucked her hair under a scarf to fly, but pulled it down now, a few stray snowflakes catching in the inky waves.

Kala rounded the corner of the house to see Tim running flat out, arms scything, and then he dove behind a bush, rolling as he landed. That covered him in a dusting of powder, and he caught sight of her then. She couldn't help laughing at his expression, but he did manage to call out, "Duck and cover, K!"

Unfortunately, she hesitated a second too long, and got a snowball to the face. Again the laugh she'd heard before, and now a high voice calling, "Got you! Headshot!"

Kala wiped snow from her eyes and saw a little girl of maybe ten, her hair as black as Kala's own beneath a wool hat with a bobble on top. She came to a halt, looking at Kala curiously. "Daddy?" she called over her shoulder. Kala noticed her arm cocked back, another snowball at the ready.

A tall red-haired man was following her, wearing a scarf that matched her hat, and he closed the distance quickly to put a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Hi," he said, his tone friendly, but his green eyes were quietly assessing. "You must be Kala – very few people can get past security."

"Guilty as charged," she said, and stepped forward with her hand out. "As long as Uncle Bruce doesn't put anti-aircraft missile launchers on the roof, I'm good. You're Roy Harper, right? From Star City?" Dick had told her the former Titan would be at the Manor, too, but not for how long. Kala had hoped she'd get here in time to meet Dinah's son.

He shook with her as the little girl spied Tim and flung a snowball at him. Tim dodged and ran as she chased him, and the redhead laughed. "Yeah, I'm Roy. That little tornado of destruction in human form is my daughter, Lian. Tim's the only one she hasn't managed to nail yet, so she's on a mission."

Kala grinned; this was so perfectly the way she expected a Bat family Christmas to be, it was hard not to laugh. "Oh, so I take it that she's already tagged Jay? I'm going to enjoy razzing him about having a blind spot without me."

"Got him second, right after Bruce," Roy told her. "Sneaky kid, she had a second snowball in her pocket and beaned him in the back of the head while he was laughing at Bruce."

"I like her already," Kala said. "So what rules are we playing under? Boys versus girls?"

"Lian versus everyone, right now," he replied. "We're just trying to blow off enough energy that she'll actually go down for a nap at some point. Come on around and join us. With you here, we can make it girls versus boys and it'll be a little more fair."

That earned him a highly-amused grin. Of all the situations she had expected to walk into after Christmas at the farmhouse, this was the exact opposite. "Unless a whole bunch more people showed up than I expected, it's still not fair if I don't downplay it," Kala teased, following him into the back yard.

"Yeah, but both the grown-up girls have powers, so it works out," Roy replied easily. "Hey, Jay! Quit sulking, I found you a reason to smile!"

Across the powdered lawn, Jay looked up, snow on his coat and in his hair, and Kala saw that he'd just clotheslined Tim, who landed sprawling. Lian gave a triumphant cry and shoved her snowball down Tim's shirt. Amid the general laughter and yelps of discomfort, Jay came to Kala with his gaze never leaving hers and grabbed her in a bear hug. Kala squeaked in surprise when he did it, laughing in amusement and bone-deep relief. Nothing had changed in the time they'd been apart, then. With a happy sigh, she settled into the embrace, hugging him back. "Well, hello. Did you maybe miss me a little, Red?"

His answer was a kiss that made Roy whistle, Kala slipping her fingers gratefully into his hair, and then Jay drew back. For a moment, they only grinned at each other, Kala chucking softly. "Save me from my family," he said, only half joking. "Dick's talking about going _caroling_. You're the only one who can carry a tune, so that'll be a disaster. Let's fly to Australia or something."

No surprise there; at least things were going about the way she had expected it would. Honestly, she had been quietly amazed when he had let his family talk him into being here, but relieved nonetheless. It was an amazing step forward, especially for him. The way he had been playing with Lian made it clear that it hadn't been all that bad, but she knew what he needed to hear. Reaching up to touch his cheek, she nodded slightly. "If you really want to, we can. Any time. I just didn't bring a swimsuit," Kala replied, her voice pitched low, and saw his eyes widen in surprise.

"Nah, I'm kidding," Jay said, but the tension knotting his shoulders began to relax. "I see you met Roy and Lian. Kid's got her mom's aim."

"Hey, I'm the best shot in the crowd," Roy cut in. "Lian gets it from both of us."

Cheshire. That was the one thing she had not quite been prepared for; she knew something of Roy's history, but had to admit it was more Titans gossip than it was anything else. In all the interactions in the hero community she had had thus far, she really hadn't run across the Arrows much before Dinah, most of which had been face-to-face this summer. Jason had given her the basics on what had happened to Arsenal, but she knew little that had been proven beyond he was Dinah's adopted son, more hers than Oliver's these days. Substances issues back in the day, issues he had worked hard to put behind him. Former founding Titan. Close friends with both Nightwing and Troia. And that he, the same as Jay, had somehow gotten himself mixed up with an older female assassin. The only difference was, Roy had a pretty little souvenir of the encounter, the adorable snowball-launcher that she had encountered moments ago, a child he had brought home and raised mostly on his own. That said, there were a lot of incorrect rumors about she herself. The best she could do was to accept Roy only on what she could learn on her own. "I don't think I've met Lian's mom," Kala said, letting Roy set the tone.

Roy gave a low chuckle. "Jade's smarter than to take a hit on a meta, so you probably haven't. You'd know her as Cheshire."

"Yeah, Roy had his bad-girl phase, and got a pretty cool kid out of it," Jay taunted. Kala elbowed him in the side, arching her brow with a glare no one else could see. At least he had the grace to look embarrassed.

Roy, misunderstanding why she'd elbowed him, just said, "It's fine. He's gotta trash-talk me. It's how he deals with his insecurity when there's a hotter hero around."

"Please, you soulless ginger," Jay scoffed. Kala snorted, having made up her mind that she could very easily like Roy Harper, and Jay caught her by the waist, tugging her almost off her feet. "The hottest hero in the place is this one. Literally. Running on solar power means her body temperature's a couple degrees higher than normal." Still, his tone made it clear that meant 'hotter' in multiple ways, and Roy's grin said he agreed.

Kala couldn't help blushing; having him make much of her to others was still something she was getting used to. "Shut it, Jaybird," she muttered, smiling despite herself.

Lian squealed, then, and all three of them whipped around. She'd tried to pounce on Dick, and he now carried her over his shoulder, laughing as he walked toward Kala. "Welcome to the Wayne Family & Friends Snowball Fight," Dick said, and set Lian down again to hug Kala.

She squeezed him tight, and said, "Before I forget, Mom and Dad, and Jason and Elise, all send their regards. Glad to be here, though. I heard Lord Grimdark himself was the first one to go down."

"Lian's ruthless," Dick teased.

"I think we've more than established that that's a useful trait in a girl," Kala replied, waggling her brows.

"Oh yeah. She converted him to her cause, and he's been making ammunition for her. Everybody forgets how much Bruce loves kids until you let him play with one." Dick himself looked utterly content; his investigative skills weren't all he had in common with Bruce.

Kala was glad to see them all, about to suggest another game, when she saw Lian, Tim, and a third person walking toward them. She started to smile, then saw who was with them. All the warmth ran out of her expression as she recognized Donna Troy. She stiffened a little, and felt Jay's arm tighten around her.

Donna walked up without a word to the rest, focused only on her. Funny how just by being there, she could make Kala feel every bit younger and shorter and less trained; that dressing-down had made her feel like a stupid kid. No matter that it had been months ago, Kala could vividly recall the dull flush of embarrassment she'd felt.

Before saying a word, Donna reached into an inside pocket of her coat and brought out a small branch that looked dried, though several clusters of dark green leaves still clung to it. She held it out to Kala, and raised her eyebrows a little. "This is how we do things on Themyscira," she explained. "The proverbial olive branch, asking for peace between us."

Kala didn't know how to take that, made worse by all of them watching her expectantly. She glanced between Jay and Dick, both of whom looked hopeful, but found no guidance there. So she looked at Donna and shrugged. "I wasn't aware we were at war."

Donna sighed. "Kala, I wronged you. Not only was I fundamentally wrong about _you_, your character and your motives, I made it worse by calling you out in front of all the Titans you just rescued. There really isn't an excuse for that; I don't do well without plans and procedures. Trying to wing it almost always blows up in my face. But that doesn't give me the right to bash you. I'm sorry for all of it."

The _formality_ of it made Kala feel awkward. She hadn't stopped to think about the fact that Troia would even still _be_ here at this point and had not seen this situation occurring at _all_. "People make mistakes, Donna. It's not a big deal. Besides, if you hadn't lit into me, I wouldn't have come here and trained with Jay, and I wouldn't be where I am now. So maybe some good came of it."

"It is a big deal," Donna said. "A founding Titan blows her stack at you? That's not how we welcome people to the team."

That level of adamant frustration in Donna Troy left Kala floored and blinking. This … really had not been anything she'd ever expected to hear from her, ever, not to Kala herself. Especially now that Kala was sleeping with Donna's ex, which she was sure was not a point in her favor. An apology from Troia had never been something that had entered her mind, and not like this, ten minutes into Christmas with the Waynes. But it clearly took a lot for the Amazon to do this, put herself out there. In light of that, she told her the truth as it now stood. "It made me train that much harder, push myself further. You had a point and I tried to take that to heart," Kala pointed out. "And, to be fair to you, I never asked to join the Titans. Why would I expect a welcome?"

"You still shouldn't have been snubbed, especially not by me. I'm supposed to know better. So please, accept my apology?" Donna raised the olive branch, almost hesitantly, and Kala saw in a flash that she expected to get the whole speech and antique gesture flung back in her face. She was steeling herself to bear that with grace, and might even think she deserved it.

A few months ago, it would've be _so_ satisfying to rip her to shreds … but Kala had come a lot way in the months since their encounter and, deep down, she was her father's daughter. She couldn't see how obviously Donna was trying to make this up to her, admitting she had been completely wrong about Kala, and not respond to it. Besides, Donna was making a point of doing this in front of a couple of Titans, owning her mistakes, being _honorable_. All of that appealed irresistibly to Kala's own best instincts.

She took hold of the branch, and met Donna's gaze with no more hesitation. "You're forgiven, Donna. And … thank you. It wasn't the most comfortable way of doing things, but maybe I needed a kick in the pants. At the very least, I got a cute former Robin out of the whole deal."

Donna smiled like a sunrise, and Kala saw why everyone idolized the Wonders. "Thank _you_. I'm glad you can see it that way. And that Robin _is_ cute, as long as he keeps his mouth shut." She let go of the branch, cutting her eyes at Jay.

Who glowered at the nickname and the description. "_Tim's_ Robin, so lay off. And _cute_ is for puppies. Don't make me puke."

Kala managed not to smirk; he hadn't complained when _she_ called him Robin. "Aww, but you're so given to moments of unequivocal preciousness, how can we possibly resist?" Her tone was playful, and she batted her eyelashes at him teasingly. Oh, she was going to pay for it, but that surly look on his face? And knowing the way to apologize for it later? Worth it.

Jay lowered his head to look at her seriously. "Ha ha, real funny. Now put the stick on your mantelpiece; I don't think Donna's apologized maybe more than four times in her life."

"It's because I'm usually right. You should try it sometime," Donna shot back, and Kala couldn't help a bark of laughter. It was nice to see someone else score a point with her ever-mouthy Jaybird. While the rest turned to Donna, Kala glanced at Jay, her gaze softening to apologize for playing a little too much.

He accepted it by rumpling her hair. "Hey, Don? I was right about K. I'll take that and be proud of it, thanks."

"Yes, you were," Donna admitted, instead of continuing the banter. "I'm glad you corrected me on that."

Kala raised an eyebrow at that; Jay hadn't mentioned anything about setting Troia straight. He only grinned at his ex, and said, "Maybe you should listen to me on a couple other things, too."

Donna's eyes widened for a second, but then she covered her reaction; Kala wondered what the heck _that_ was about. Probably something she didn't wanna know.

In the meantime, Lian had patiently toted snowballs back and forth between the ammo dump Bruce had made for her, and the circle of adults. As soon as they all stopped talking, she shouted, "Snowball fight!" and began pelting them all.

…

While everyone else was outside flinging snowballs at one another, Selina crept off to a corner of the attic that just so happened to be out of range of any potential listening device in the main house. It was dry, and cold, and dusty, but she _really_ didn't want to be overheard.

She dialed the new number, and it only rang twice before being answered. That was because she'd left a voicemail yesterday saying she'd call around this time; they were keeping the phones off with the sim cards removed, so as not to be tracked. Honestly, she hadn't expected anyone to answer despite her request. This was more her holiday than either of theirs.

Still, she smiled to hear Harley's voice. "Merry Christmas, Selina!"

And right behind her, probably leaning close, was Pam. "Merry Christmas. Which of your boyfriends are you spending it with?"

"The richest one, of course," Selina laughed. "All his kids are home, it's a riot out there. I swear he's trying to go full Jolie and get one from every continent. Merry Christmas, girls. How are you both holding up?"

"I feel like I'm bein' held up," Harley complained. "Anonymity and safety is nice and all, but it's just _weird_ pretending to be normal. There's like, a family of four on one side of us, and three college kids on the other. And here we are with Bud and Lou and some of Pam's babies. Still, at least no one's noticed."

"Good. Keep it that way until you've ironed out all the details," Selina said firmly. "I want to see you both before you leave. I'm going to miss you both so much."

"We'll miss you, too. Hey, kitty, you could always come with. Three's never been a crowd when it's us. And I'm sure no matter where we fetch up, you can find another hunky billionaire to spoil you." Harley sounded hopeful, but they all knew it wasn't going to happen.

Selina just sighed. "But where could I find myself another Bat? Maybe when things cool down, I can come visit."

"Bats are overrated," Pam grumbled.

Deciding to change the topic, Selina said, "Have you been watching the news at all?"

"Nah, 'cause most of it's bad. For us, anyway," Harley answered. "Why, what's he done now?" She didn't need to name Joker. Honestly, she never had.

Selina was glad to be able to offer something positive. "This isn't about him. It's about _you_. Harley, do you realize you're becoming a folk hero?" And then over the increasingly disbelieving demurrals, Selina told her all about the harlequin pattern showing up around the East End. The murdered pimp had been the first, but there had been other incidents since, not all of them quite so dramatic. A price-gouging laundromat had had all of its machines jammed so that they ran without change being put in. A particularly usurious pawnbroker had arrived to find his shop broken into, with nothing taken, but a large hornets' nest had somehow been shoved inside. Selina focused on the humorous tales, but there had been two more murders, both clearly self-defense by battered wives. She skimmed those to tell Harley about the three women who realized they were all dating the same man, and who had gotten together to burn his clothes and spray-paint his car before heading out for breakfast together.

And at every scene, the same red and black harlequin patterns. Some of them were after the fact; the domestic violence situations were obviously not put up by the perpetrators. But the cops were paying attention. "Women in the East End are through putting up with men's bullshit," Selina said, as she rounded out the last story. "It's a whole movement. You inspired people, Harley."

"I never really thought about bein' a role model," she said, after a thoughtful pause. "Okay, as Dr. Quinzel, yeah, back then I thought it. Now? As _me_? Shit, nobody should be lookin' up to _me_. And this is … just weird, y'know?"

"I know. But if someone like _Joker_ can get taken down by a woman he mistreated, then _none_ of these bastards have a leg to stand on anymore. Personally I'm rather pleased. There's too many women in the world who don't stand up for themselves," Selina said, treading carefully.

Harley just laughed at her. "Yeah, but you're Catwoman. Nobody ever tells you what to do."

"They try, I just don't listen," Selina clarified. "The Bat finally figured out I'm not one of his soldiers. I don't have a good read on what he's thinking with this whole situation, by the way. He knows it's not _you_ doing it, he would've caught you by now. But the attention it's getting … so far just websites and blogs. Once it hits the papers and the morning news, you'll have to be even more careful."

"We _are_ being careful," Pam cut in. "This is unfortunate timing. If Joker decides to investigate these situations, at best it will distract him from hunting us. Perhaps he'll even cross paths with your Bat. At worst…"

"At worst it pisses him off even more," Harley said. "But hey, he already wants to kill me. In some over-the-top gory way that reasserts his fundamental superiority as the scariest bastard in town. We always knew, if we screw up and he catches any of us, we're dead. This doesn't really make it worse. And maybe it makes things better for a lotta people who needed to get away from guys like him."

"I suppose we can only be philosophical about it. There's nothing we can _do_ at this point to change it," Pam mused.

"We've done all we can," Selina replied. "The Southards are safely out of the country, I'm locked in behind the best security in town with a Bat on speed dial, and you're both deep undercover. How long have you got, before you leave?"

"A few days. I'm just waiting to hear back on the plane," Pam told her.

Selina had to bite her lip at that. A few days, and two of her closest friends would be going as far as they could get from Gotham. Sure, she could visit, but it wouldn't be the same. The three of them had argued, at times, to the point of drawing blood, but it didn't change how much Selina was willing to risk for their safety. She cared about them, and they both cared about her.

One of Selina's feline traits was her selfishness. She told people to their faces that she only looked out for number one, and she ordered her life to suit herself, never compromising for anyone else. She called it independence and self-reliance, and really, they were all sort of the same thing. Except when what she wanted would cause harm to someone else.

She couldn't put the way she'd miss the girls above their safety. But then, she knew in her heart that she wasn't as selfish as she tried to be. What would've been best for _her_ was staying out of this whole thing; she should've never gone to check on them in the first place, never let herself be talking into robbing that bank which had painted a target on her back for Joker. The smart, self-preserving way would've been to distance herself, not help Harley get in touch with her sister and get Bruce involved with protecting the Southards.

Selina remembered seeing an article about a mother cat who'd had kittens in a house that caught on fire. Five times the cat walked into the flames, bringing out her babies one by one. Firefighters in full protective gear battled the blaze, while one small cat kept running in with nothing but her wits and her love for her kittens. By the time she got the last one out, her ears were burned off and her eyes were swollen shut, most of her fur was singed off and she had blisters on her paws. But all five kittens survived, and so did their brave mother.

From the moment Miss Kitty had looked deep into her eyes and given her the intuition that Harley and Pam needed to _run_ to survive, Selina had felt that same grim determination to drag them both out of harm's way by the scruffs of their necks if necessary. She was lucky, so far, that she hadn't gotten burned yet. But with every move Joker made, she felt the air around her growing hotter. Sooner or later, things would burst into flame, and Selina could only hope that she'd gotten herself and everyone she loved out of the fire's path.

"I'll drop by tomorrow," she told them, focusing on the present. "I should be able to shake my protection detail long enough to come see you both, and the boys."

"I'm looking forward to it," Harley said, with a hopeful note in her voice. "I'm sorry, Selina, we didn't exactly get to do any Christmas shoppin' this year."

"Harley, I don't care. The best gift you could ever give me was putting that bastard in the hospital and getting yourself away safely," Selina told her firmly.

"Amen to that," Pam said, and all three of them pretended not to be a little choked up by it.

…

After making dozens of snowballs for Lian, Bruce went inside for a cup of hot mulled wine, letting the children sort things out amongst themselves. They would do better without him underfoot, anyway, which was why he'd let Lian tag him first.

He stood in the window watching as Donna confronted Kala, proffering a literal olive branch. Kala seemed uncertain at first, but they made amends just in time for Lian to get bored and attack them all with a flurry of snowballs. Smart little girl, that one. She'd bear watching as she grew older.

All of the kids – he still thought of them that way, despite Lian being the only one under eighteen – exploded into motion. Kala was simply _gone_, snow kicking up in her wake. Donna fell back laughing, grabbing up a handful of snow. Tim dodged behind Lian, gently tossing a snowball at her. Dick laughed at their predicament, and Jay whipped a snowball into his face.

Then Roy shouted something, and Bruce's three sons broke away with him, leaving Donna and Lian running for the ammo dump. Kala met them there, and Bruce admired the way Roy had gotten her and Donna to work together so quickly and naturally. They stood in a rough triangle with Lian as its sharpest point, and the boys circled around trying to tag them.

Kala was fast enough to hit incoming snowballs out of the air, which let Donna and Lian work on offense. The boys, despite outnumbering them, weren't landing any hits. Bruce waited with a small smile, knowing one of them would decide on strategy instead of this frontal assault.

Eventually they all faded back to the limits of their throwing range, Jay and Roy taking cover behind a bush. Tim and Dick moved to flank the girls' position, trying to work their way into the trees. Donna and Kala weren't having it, though. They defended their chosen spot vigorously.

"A charming scene," Alfred said beside him, and Bruce startled, not having realized the butler had entered the room. He gave a rueful smile; the Batman's habit of appearing and disappearing vexed his colleagues, and they would all have been delighted to know that it happened to him, too. Pretending not to notice his employer's surprise, Alfred continued, "One wonders if one might have made an error, in letting a solitary boy retain those habits. The next generation certainly seems to benefit from a more social setting."

"You can't change the past, Alfred," Bruce demurred. Something – the Christmas spirit, the sweet spiced wine, the snow falling past the window – made him add, "You were the best example I could hope for. I've been very lucky to have you."

"Indeed you are, sir," Alfred said, a twinkle in his eye.


	28. More Than You Could Ever Know

The girls versus boys snowball fight degenerated when Dinah added herself to the fray. She'd been inside with Babs and Helena, neither of whom wanted to get in the middle of what Babs was calling 'Snowmageddon', but Dinah was always game for a fight.

Jay, who had tried to sneak up on the ammo dump and gotten hit simultaneously by Lian and Kala, spat snow and complained. "Hey, no fair having all three metas on the same team. We gotta re-balance this."

That earned him a mocking laugh from his girl, still floating above him from her assault position of moments before. "What's it matter? Don't be a sore loser, Red. Lian's not a meta."

"He just doesn't like losing to a girl," Dinah teased.

Kala's eyes sparkled; he could see it from down here. She'd dumped her bag by the door, safe from any potential falling snow, when all of this started and joined in enthusiastically. Almost _too _enthusiastically. "Yeah, well, he definitely has issues today then, huh?" At that, that gorgeous face of hers was the very definition of challenge.

Scoffing, Jay held up his hands. "You know better. Time out! Let's redo the teams."

Dick, who had been repeatedly pelted with snowballs by Donna and Dinah, scrubbed a hand through his hair to dislodge the worst of it. "OG heroes versus the next generation?" he offered.

Jay rolled his eyes. "OG? Really? You wouldn't know gangsta if you fell over it. If anyone here's OG, it's me."

Kala groaned audibly, sinking from her hover to touch down gently next to him. Jay thought about flipping her off, but remembered Lian in time. He crossed his arms. "Fine, Dickie-Bird. You get Donna and Dinah, so you've still got more metas, but that means I get K and Lian. They're the deadliest anyway."

"So you don't mind if the teams aren't balanced as long as you're winning?" Donna challenged.

"I never said it was unbalanced. I just said Kala and Lian score the most hits. Doesn't stop you from pulling defense. Now, you gonna play? Or complain?" Jay gave Donna a smirk, and she rolled her eyes at him.

"Of course you have to steal Kala all over again," Donna said.

"All day, every day," Jay replied, and saw Kala's brow quirk up. He grinned, and told her, "_Some_ OG Titan whom I will not name, but who rhymes with sauna, complained about me snatching up the fresh meat to be my partner and not letting you work with anyone else."

He had fully anticipated the horrified look she shot him and grinned all the more fiercely. "_Fresh meat_?" Kala said, disbelievingly, enunciating both syllables with a sour look in his direction.

"You heard me," Jay taunted her.

Tim looked at them both dubiously. "Are we talking about in the sense of a restaurant, or a prison?" That, at least, got a snort out of Kala.

"Enough," Donna scolded, as Roy dissolved into snickering laughter. "Fine. Originals versus next gen. Starting … _now_."

Jay fired the snowball he'd been making behind his back the whole time, catching Dick right in the face. He then got clobbered by a snowball from Donna, and Kala retaliated for him. Jay tried to target Roy and Dick, but he couldn't help being distracted. Donna and Kala had squared off, and their powers were pretty well matched. All the folks on the ground saw was an absolute _storm_ of snowballs going back and forth.

"You split up the metas and they cancel each other out," Tim said musingly, as he and Lian peeked out from behind the snow fort.

Jay figured there was some kind of lesson in there somewhere. Donna and Kala were so wholly focused on each other, they couldn't help their teams – but everyone at ground level was catching the fallout from their battle, too.

Fifteen minutes of running around like a psycho, heaving snowballs at people he'd grown up respecting, and occasionally seeing a snowball the size of a basketball go soaring past above him, all managed to restore Jay's equilibrium. It was _weird_, for sure, playing in the snow with a bunch of literal superheroes.

Dick was the one who called time, next, and it was a good thing they were all in excellent condition. Otherwise the strenuous exercise in the cold would've been a recipe for hypothermia. When Dick would've called a general pause to the game, Lian looked at him so sadly that they went for one more round of Lian versus everyone. Or as Jay thought of it, assassin practice.

He got tagged out third, this round, and found a tree to lean against while Lian hunted down the rest. The game had gradually moved down the sloping back yard, toward the woods, but there was nothing out there that could be more dangerous than an Amazon and a Kryptonian. Both of whom were still in the game … until Lian fired three snowballs into Dick's chest after he was already out, and Donna stopped to chide her gently for being overly enthusiastic. Lian had hidden a fourth snowball and caught Donna mid-sentence.

Laughing, Donna picked Lian up and flipped her upside-down. "What're you doing, squeaker?"

"Bein' devious!" Lian laughed, kicking her feet delightedly.

Kala was the last one, and she was simply too fast for Lian. Jay saw her softening, and knew any minute now K would let herself get tagged … but as she drifted closer to him, he saw an opportunity, and took it.

"Sudden and inevitable betrayal!" Jay yelled, charging as if he meant to run at Lian. The little girl squealed, flinging a snowball at him – but he changed direction at the last second and launched himself at Kala.

She was hovering, and he leaped horizontally, like a football tackle. Jay _meant_ to knock her to the ground and roll her around a little, maybe sneak in a squeeze of that glorious Kryptonian ass, but she hadn't been expecting the attack at all. His body mass moving at speed knocked her further sideways than Jay had ever expected.

And the ground must have sloped more sharply than he thought, because all of a sudden Jay found himself upside-down in a snow drift. For a moment he simply froze in surprise, and then he tentatively tried moving his arms. Kala's voice came to him, muffled by snow but still plainly peevish. "Jay, what the _hell_?"

"Um, shit," he muttered, and kicked his legs.

"You freaking goofball," Kala laughed, and the crust of snow around Jay's shins broke. The next thing he knew, Kala had _exploded_ out of the snowbank with a high-pitched yelp, and Jay found himself loose of the snow's cold embrace but now lying in a heap at the bottom of a crater in what had been a pristine drift moments ago.

Righting himself, he looked up to see Dick, Dinah, and Roy laughing hysterically, Donna and Tim shaking their heads, and Lian looking curiously upward. From somewhere above, Kala's voice floated down. "There is _snow_ in my _bra_, Mr. Todd. I am _not pleased_. If there wasn't a literal child present I would be telling you _explicitly_ how displeased I am."

He must've shaken some loose when he started to move, and Jay laughed as he clawed his way out of the snow. Kala hovered in midair, looking frosted. "Come down here, you look ridiculous."

"_I_ look ridiculous? Like you have room to talk. Hold on, let me fly back home real quick and grab a mirror so you can see how ridiculous _you_ look. You're like the world's most dangerous powdered doughnut."

That got Donna laughing, too. "She's got a point. You really didn't think that through, did you?"

"Hey, I've got snow down my shirt, too. I'm just not complaining out loud," Jay replied. He dusted the worst of the snow off his jacket, and looked up at Kala, still hovering irritably. "Seriously, come down. We might as well go inside and change. Let the rest of them play for a while."

Dinah chuckled. "Go on, kids. Kala, I doubt it could hurt you, but Jay might actually get frostbite."

The arch look on her face seemed to make it clear that she'd almost let him suffer. Only she could make aggravation look that good, her gaze sharp. "I'm trying to decide if I trust you enough to let you anywhere near me, Mr. Inevitable Betrayal," Kala grumbled.

Jay sighed, turning his back on her and heading for the door. "Well, it's either that, or I steal your bag and run inside…"

"_Enough_, you complete heathen. Gimme." Kala was suddenly beside him, before he could ever reach the bag, and she was kind enough despite her irritation to brush snow off his back. "Mission accomplished; we're seriously both coated and I'm wet to the skin. Just for curiosity's sake, how did that look in your head? Because I'm pretty sure it wasn't like that."

Scoffing at his own mistake, Jay told her, "Well, I thought the ground was closer and we'd enough up rolling across it. Not taking a dive." He got the door for Kala, both of them stomping the snow off their boots. Kala had grabbed her bag away from his hand, and settled it on her shoulder. Once the door was shut behind them, and he could see there was no one in the hallway listening, Jay added with an arched brow, "I also figured it'd be a good excuse for both of us to go upstairs."

Jay could see the instant look of startled surprise cross her face before Kala glared up at him as they shrugged out of their coats and hung them up. "Really? No. You knocked me into a snowbank, Jay! I'm freezing."

"I didn't know the snowbank was there. And you're not freezing. You're solar-powered, your core temp is probably a hundred and four," Jay shot back. They also left their boots by the door, not wanting to track snow through the house. "Also, I actually _missed_ you. A lot. The house is full of people who are okay, I guess, but they're not _you_." With that and another wondering look, he kissed her again, even more soundly than before.

Kala started to melt into it before remembering she was annoyed with him for the snow melting under her shirt. She shot him another glare and grumbled under her breath, but she led the way to the stairs – and his room instead of hers. "I _might_ forgive you sometime before I have to leave. Maybe. Even if you are a dirty double-crosser," she told him, pulling her dark blue sweater off the moment he closed the door behind them.

Jay was right there, instantly, stripping his gloves off hastily to help her by unhooking her bra. And then yanking his shirt off and kissing her shoulder, wrapping his arms still clad in the warm thermal undershirt around her torso. "Did I mention I missed you? A lot?"

"Maybe a little," Kala replied, a purring note in her voice. She wrapped her arms around his with a sigh, leaning back into him and swaying in his embrace, so warm and trusting. "Although … I remember something about a younger female trying to put the moves on you. Might have to call you to task on that one."

"We're talking about a damn cat that weighs less than my shoes," Jay replied. "I need an actual woman in my life. The more superb, the better."

That was followed by a pained, dismayed sound, then a groan. "Oh God, not the puns, not like this."

Jay took the opportunity to slip one hand down the front of her jeans. Immediately, he felt her hips arch into his touch, murmuring softly. "Sometimes you like the puns. And at least you know I like cats."

Yeah, it was vaguely obscene and got him just the response he was hoping for right now; K was only so much of a good-girl. Kala laughed, low and throaty, leaning back against him. "Can you even make that joke with Selina around?"

"_She_ did, when I complained about the weirdo cat sticking her nose in my mouth," Jay muttered, but he was rapidly losing any ability to care about actual cats, or anything or anyone outside this room. He nuzzled Kala's shoulder, tugging her jeans down past her hips.

Catching her breath in a gasp, Kala's tone was completely different. Warm, amused, sensual. And more than a little needy. Just what he wanted. "Little impatient there, Robin?"

"Not Robin anymore. And not 'little' anything," Jay told her, nipping at her neck. One quick shove left her jeans pooled around her feet.

He had to bend down slightly to get them off, which left him looking directly at the back of her panties. Never an unwelcome sight, but in honor of the holiday, Kala was wearing a dark green pair with three boxes on it. 'Nice' and 'Naughty' were both blank; the checked box read 'I Tried'.

The one thing Jay had not expected, when he finally got Kala half-naked again in his bedroom, was to laugh out loud.

She laughed with him, knowing he'd seen it, turning as Jay stood up again to put her arms around his neck with a grin. "Glad you like them. I almost bought a pair that said 'Kiss me under the mistletoe', but they actually had holly on them instead. I can't handle botanical inaccuracy."

This was nothing like what he imagined being with a Super would be like. And it was everything Jay wanted and needed in life. "Now I'm gonna hafta fuck you just for being able to use 'botanical inaccuracy' in a sentence," he teased, and kissed her.

Kala kissed him back with interest, then whispered against his lips, "Promises, promises, Mr. Hood. I missed you, too."

Jay slid his hands down her sides, appreciating every curve. "Lemme show you how much," he said huskily.

…

When Jay wanted to spoil her, he _really_ spoiled her. Kala had been annoyed with him as they went back inside – and she didn't buy his story that this was all part of his master plan to get them some alone time, either. It still worked out that way.

And apparently he was taking her joke about the mistletoe panties seriously; she was already burying her face in the pillow to muffle her cries, and he hadn't bothered to get his pants off yet. One of the things she liked best about him was how he could zero in on something, like kissing her shoulders or rubbing her back, and just focus on doing that for a while. Jay wasn't in a hurry to get to the main event; as far as he saw it, _everything_ was the main event. And right now, with him on his knees beside the bed and her legs over his shoulders, he acted like he could stay down there forever.

Kala threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled him up a little as her second orgasm faded into bliss. "Get up here," she demanded, her voice husky. "C'mon, Jay, I want all of you."

He smiled crookedly up at her, and Kala's heart seized. Probably no one else got to see that kind of look from Jay, so full of warmth and affection – and desire. He stood up, shucking off the rest of his clothes, and Kala watched avidly with heat pooling low in her belly. He was just too damned fucking handsome, starting from those vivid eyes and encompassing that smile, that jaw, every sculpted muscle, and even every scar. Proof that he was a survivor, that this man she needed so much never gave up, he lived and thrived in spite of everything the world threw at him, and he came out of it with a wicked sense of humor and the sweetest kind of tenderness, too.

"See something you like?" Jay teased, and Kala just grinned up at him, arching a wave through her body that brought him down beside her. "Yeah, I could look at you all day, too."

"This isn't a museum. You can't break anything, Red. Why look when you can touch?" Kala asked, and did so, mapping the planes of his body. Jay did the same for her, and for a while it was like one of their first times, all hunger, need, and exploration. As if she could've forgotten anything even in the long days apart; Jay showed up in Kala's dreams, engraving her memories even deeper.

She'd missed this so much, missed _him_ so much. Jay had rapidly become an essential part of her life. Kala could run solo, and often had, but her preference was to be with someone who complemented and challenged her. In all areas of her life. Jay was the best partner she could ever ask for in the field, and was undeniably the best lover she'd ever had.

When he broke away long enough to grab a condom from the nightstand, Kala bit her lip. Those words were on the tip of her tongue all too often, lately. This was love, she knew it, it wasn't just sex, and she knew he knew it – just as well as she knew he'd never _say_ it. Love had a way of exploding in his face, and as long as he didn't name it, Jay could revel in it. Kala, who told her family and friends and partners that she loved them on a daily basis, accepted that. She could live without the words when their meaning was so woven into every interaction.

The way he came to her, his arms around her body, his hips fitting between her thighs, leaning down to kiss her first, _that_ was how Jay said he loved her. And the way he rested his forehead against hers when they were fully joined, just savoring the closeness, the intimacy, before she wrapped her legs around him and he set up an irresistible rhythm.

In the heat of the moment, they were all passion, hungry kisses and eager hands and the breathless immediacy of pleasure. Until she pressed her face hard against his shoulder to muffle her scream of his name, until he echoed her with far less attempt to quiet the sound. In the trembling moments afterward, silent except for both of them trying to catch their breath, they had gentleness again, Kala pressing soft kisses to his cheek and jaw.

Jay finally sighed, and looked at her with satisfaction in those breathtaking eyes. "I thought I was just kinda … over-dramatizing how fucking good you are. Since I missed you so much and all. Nope, if anything I was underestimating."

"I think that was my line," Kala told him softly, just letting herself feel awash in this warmth, and kissed him again. "Let me catch my breath again, and you know I'll show you _good_."

Jay chuckled softly. "Merry Christmas to me. Y'know, you really do give the best presents."

And he was _still_ teasing her about his birthday. Even all these months later. Some things never changed. "Shut up, you," Kala laughed, and distracted him.

…

Jay woke up, realizing only as he did so that he'd dozed off snuggled up with Kala in the afterglow of round two. For a moment, he couldn't figure out what had woken him, and then he felt the faintest pressure along his side.

He lifted his head and looked at fluffy Norway, stepping across from his hip to Kala's. "Really? How the fuck do you _do_ that, cat?"

"Maow," was his only answer, as Norway walked up to Kala's shoulder. The cat settled herself down into a furry little loaf, purring loudly.

Kala cracked open one eye, looking toward the cat. "Well hello, pretty one," she said, her voice a little hoarse from trying to stifle it earlier, looking delighted and amused. Jay took an obscene kind of pride in that huskier-than-usual tone. Then again, she was a professional singer who could reach the back of the amphitheater without a mic, so she _had_ to keep it down here. Especially with the entire family in the house.

They had to know, of course, but there was a difference between _knowing_ Jay and Kala had snuck off to have sex, and _hearing_ it through the whole Manor. Not that Jay really gave a shit. No one could trash-talk him for it. Dick and Babs had done it in the freakin' Batmobile, and he didn't let himself think about Bruce's many, _many_ hookups.

Jay let a sigh. "I need to figure out how that cat keeps getting in here. I'm _not_ keeping her. Selina's got five sisters, and they each picked one of us to hang out with. Dick got the friendly one, Bruce got the weird one, Alfred got the shy one, and Tim got the quiet one. Somehow I got the tiny fuzzball that tries to boss every other cat around."

Kala had started petting the cat's head, a soft smile on her face, and murmured, "Hmm, the one that figured out pretty quickly that, no matter how much bigger you are than her, you'd never hurt her? Smart little girl."

"Pain in the ass. Did I mention she stuck her snotty little nose in my mouth? Like just jammed her whole muzzle under my lip?" Jay tried to look offended, but even he found it funny now.

Kala laughed openly as Norway leaned into her touch. Yeah, K was thoroughly enchanted. "How can you be mad at her? She's so _tiny_. And so cute."

"Ask Selina if you can take her home. I can barely take care of myself, I don't need a pet," Jay said. He had to admit that Norway in particular was cute. Sometimes he saw her in low light, and all there was to her was a puff of black floof with pointy ears and two big green eyes. Charming little beast.

Kala just chuckled, still petting the cat. "I live on the road half the time. It wouldn't be fair. Besides, I wouldn't want to split up the family. Maybe this little girl and her sisters will just end up living in the Manor. I'd love to see her around. She's a sweetheart."

Jay scoffed. "Don't let Alfred hear that, he'll have conniptions. The big weirdo that likes Bruce, Batty? She demands a tithe of cheese every time Alfred cooks. And she got stuck in the garland earlier. Damn thing was swinging back and forth like a pendulum ten feet off the ground. Selina had to tell her to jump, and somehow _caught _the cat."

For a moment, Kala looked horrified, then she burst into laughter. That honest ringing, silvery laughter that just lit up a room. "Of course the troublemaker picks Uncle Bruce."

But that high laugh was just a little too loud for one of the room's occupants, and Norway flattened her ears slightly, giving a protesting _maow!_ For a moment, K just looked at her with wide-eyed surprise, but then couldn't help biting her lip. Yep, Norway had claimed another victim. "Oh my God, she's too cute. This is worse than kryptonite."

Jay just rolled his eyes. "We better get up before she starts telling us off for being lazy. Selina said she left this one un-fixed longer, so she thinks she's everyone's mom."

"Aww, but if we get up she has to move," Kala crooned as the cat stretched her head out for more petting. It was probably just the shape of her face, but Norway looked like she was smiling smugly, and Jay scoffed. Kala narrowed her eyes slightly. "Don't sulk. If she wasn't sitting on top of the blanket, I'd flip the covers back and give you something to look at so you won't make her move."

He couldn't help a snort of laughter at that. "Well _you've_ come a long way from my birthday."

Oh, the grumpy little look she gave him at that. She couldn't hide her blush, both of them clearly remembering that moment well, but her eyes sparkled with merriment. "That was different. You've seen it all by now. No sense in trying to keep a sense of mystery."

"Oh, you'll always have a little mystery. At least now you're not shy anymore, and I get to look all I want." With that, Jay scooped Norway up and flung the covers off Kala.

She yelped, Norway whined and jumped down to hide under the bed, and Kala thwacked Jay with a pillow. The naked wrestling that ensued almost turned into another round, but Norway jumped up onto the footboard and yelled again. "For fucks' sake, I'm being cockblocked by an animal smaller than the last burrito I ate," Jay complained.

Kala laughed and tousled his hair. "We need to get up anyway. The rest of them probably think we're dead."

Jay grumbled about it, but they did eventually get up and make themselves presentable. He knew _exactly_ what they'd be walking into downstairs, and readied himself to troll anyone who dared say anything. Kala scooped up Norway, who happily rode on her shoulder with Kala still cooing to her.

Everyone except Lian was in the living room, and _all_ of them turned to look when Jay and Kala walked in. She froze, just now realizing their situation, but Jay just smiled and waited for the first salvo. Tim looked disgusted. Dick, Roy, and Selina were all grinning. Bruce and Helena paid no attention. Babs just arched a brow and shook her head. Donna glanced at him and then looked away – Jay could feel a little bit bad for her, with enhanced hearing.

And it was _Dinah_ who fired the first shot, smirking at them. "Wow. It only took you two and a half hours to change clothes. That's a new record for least efficient changing."

With a groan, Kala dropped her head on his shoulder like an embarrassed teenager. Yep, she thought that the one breakfast reveal was the worst it could get. Not her fault for not expecting the level of hazing, though he probably should have warned her better. Jay himself shrugged. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a fucking pound. "Well, you know how it is. Once we both got naked, we remembered we haven't seen each other for two weeks, so at that point the fucking was pretty much inevitable."

The look that she turned on him for that was absolutely hysterical, wide-eyed and outraged and every bit a Super. "_Jay!_" Kala hissed, turning beet red.

"I thought it's been more like a month," Dick commented.

"Good thing Lian's down for a nap," Roy said, shaking his head.

Dinah just chuckled. "Good thing you finally decided to show up. We almost finished off the pie without you."

Jay was about to comment on how that was a fate worse than death, when Selina drawled, "If he's doing it right, Jay already had dessert." That broke everyone except Bruce up into open laughter.

K's blush increased about tenfold then. Yep, should've warned her. "Okay, that's it, you win. I'm dead. I'm done. I'm going to hide in the kitchen with the only person not mentioning my sex life," Kala said, slinking through the group of them. "At least Alfred loves me."

All of them regarded her with fond amusement, and Jay just dropped into a chair, basking in the trolling opportunity. "Hey, she is that sweet. Must be a Kryptonian thing."

From the direction of the kitchen came a horrified, "Jason Todd, _I can hear_ you!"

"Don't listen, then, K," Jay called back and laughed. "Well, now you all know that Supers can blush. Congratulations."

"At least there's no glitter this time," Tim muttered.

"No, but there _were_ cute Christmas-themed panties," Jay said.

Selina snickered at that. Miss Kitty was draped over her shoulders again, and she scratched the cat's chin as she mused, "I should ask her where she shops. The man in my life could use a little whimsy, too."

"You _are_ my recommended daily dose of whimsy," Bruce replied, eyeing her. Only then did Jay notice that the big cat, Batty, was sitting on the back of his chair, occasionally grooming his hair.

"Minimum dosage. We need to hit maximum, to counteract your chronic grimdarkness," Selina taunted.

"Hey, he made snowballs for like an hour, he's been good today," Dick countered.

Jay frowned, and asked, "Where were you in all that, Selina? We could've used some stealth."

She glanced at him archly. "I was _not_ getting into any kind of ranged fighting with a couple of metahumans. That's just not my kind of odds, Hood."

"It's not like we'd _hurt_ you," Donna said, sounding a little hurt herself at the implication.

"Yes, but it's not something I can _win_, and I try to minimize fighting losing battles. Just being in a relationship with _this_ guy maxes out my tolerance," Selina said, to more general amusement.

Jay just leaned back in his chair, savoring the feeling of _home_.

…

Mortified, Kala took refuge in the kitchen. Alfred was there, of course, with the mixer out and a couple of bowls standing ready. He had a cutting board out, and was finely chopping some peanuts as Kala walked in. "May I be of service, Miss Kala?" he asked, setting down the chef's knife.

"I'm just hiding from everyone else," Kala told him with a sheepish smile. "Carry on. All I need is to not be judged."

"No one in this house has any criteria by which they could possibly judge you," Alfred told her kindly. "We all know better than most that life is often shorter and more difficult than we would wish. There is no shame in enjoying the best parts of life – and the people we care for – to the fullest while we can."

And that was why it was utterly impossible to not love Alfred as much as humanly possible. Impulsively, Kala came forward and hugged him with no hesitation, and Alfred patted her hair affectionately. After a moment, she remembered to tell him, "By the way, Mom and Dad said to tell you merry Christmas."

"Do give them my best regards as well," he replied.

Kala finally stepped back, her heart considerably lightened. Alfred went to wash his hands before resuming his cooking, and Kala looked at the chopping board curiously. She asked, "All of them out there are nuts. You're a saint to deal with the lot of them, Alfred."

"No, my dear, I simply know my limits. It is not my duty to change any of their idiosyncrasies. Only to love them as they are, and protect and care for them as best I can." He dried his hands carefully on the towel, and returned to chopping.

Kala eyed the arranged ingredients, a hypothesis forming. Flour, two kinds of sugar, baking powder, baking soda, butter, eggs, and peanut butter chips plus the peanuts Alfred was chopping. "Are you making the famous peanut butter cookies? Should I turn my back so I don't see a state secret?"

Alfred gave her a conspiratorial grin. "I have heard that you've inherited your mother's love of baking. Would you like to help me?"

Kala was floored at the offer and smiled with affection and delight. If Alfred was willing to share this, she really _had_ been accepted into the heart of the family. In awe, she nodded as eager as a child. "Like? I'd _love_ to!" Kala exclaimed. That would be perfect, while the rest were out there trolling about her sex life, she'd be in here learning the super secret peanut butter cookie recipe.

Alfred beamed at her, sweeping the chopped nuts together into a small bowl. "Then you can be of assistance. I keep the secret ingredient in a high cupboard, and if you will fetch them down, I need not pause to get the stepladder."

"Gladly, what do you need?" Kala asked.

"The rest of the recipe first," Alfred said, and to her surprise, he gave her all the measurements for dry ingredients and wet. "You likely know this, but flour should be _weighed_. Volume is not an accurate measurement for something that settles. And unlike other cookie recipes, you must use more granulated sugar than brown. Brown sugar softens them, but these have enough softness already from the peanut butter."

Kala nodded. The only things she expected to see, and didn't, were peanut butter and vanilla. Given that this was Alfred, and Wayne Manor, she figured both were high-end, organic, possibly imported brands. "Okay, so dry ingredients stirred together in one bowl. I'm assuming you cream together the butter and sugars in the mixer?"

"Of course. It is worth noting that the butter should be room temperature – and that concept comes from England's rooms, not American ones. Our climate is colder, so room temperature is about 18 degrees Celsius. 65 degrees Fahrenheit, if you must," Alfred instructed. "Let the butter sit out on the counter for an hour or two. It should be cool to the touch, but soft. If you press a finger into it, like so, you'll make an indent, but it will not sink in nor slide about. _Never_ microwave butter. That is a sacrilege. You'll end up with half melted butter, half cold butter, and your baked goods will not have the proper texture."

"Understood," Kala said. "Dad's the same way about butter temperature. Only he told us never to use heat-vision on it. Frankly, it tends to just get vaporized."

Alfred chuckled. "I do believe your heat-vision would be best applied to cooking methods adapted for short applications of high heat, such as stir-frying. Baking, however, is a science. Now, should you forget to leave your butter out, there _is_ a trick to softening it."

"Do tell, because I always forget," Kala said. "And you're right, microwaving it ends up awful, the cookies always spread too much."

"First you cut the butter into slices, and place them into a microwave-safe bowl," Alfred told her. Kala arched a brow, and he smiled. "Then, put a glass of water in the microwave and heat it to boiling, two or three minutes. Once it's finished, take the water out and quickly put the butter in. The residual heat will soften it nicely."

"Ohh, that's smart," Kala said, her eyes widening.

"That, my dear, is the product of long experience and much research," Alfred told her.

With the butter and sugar creamed together, Alfred directed Kala to bring him a small unmarked bottle of dark liquid from the pantry. She saw several more bottles behind it, and recognized what was in the ones toward the back. "You make your own vanilla extract?" she asked him, impressed.

Alfred smiled at her. "Of course. _Never_ use imitation. It is an abomination unfit for human consumption. Store-bought is well enough, but by making my own I can control the strength, and age it as well. It's a simple process. I use Tahitian vanilla beans, split lengthwise, and a good bourbon for the alcohol. You simply store them somewhere dark and cool, and shake them once a week or so. Letting the bottles age at least a year deepens the flavor."

Kala opened the bottle, and potent vanilla swamped her nose. "Oh yeah, I'm doing this as soon as I get home," she said. "That smells _fantastic_."

"You may take a bottle with you," Alfred said. "Consider it a gift. I make several bottles throughout the year. You can, of course, simply top up the alcohol as you use it, but I prefer to remove the beans and reuse them to make a new bottle."

"Thank you," Kala told him, smiling.

With the eggs and vanilla beaten in, Alfred directed her to the high cabinet. "You will find the secret ingredient on the left, toward the back," he told her.

It had to be some rare, magical brand of peanut butter, and Kala hovered to grab it. She pulled out a plastic jar with a screw lid … and dropped to the ground in shock when she saw the label. "_Jif?!_"

Alfred laughed merrily at her consternation. "I use all-natural fresh-made peanut butter in sandwiches and such. But for cookies, the highly-processed national brand is best. I pray you, tell no one."

"I know absolutely nothing. This might be why Jay loves these cookies so much," Kala said thoughtfully. "I know he never had organic natural peanut butter as a kid, but I bet this was in his parents' cabinet."

"That possibility had occurred to me as well," Alfred admitted.

They mixed the peanut butter in, then added the dry ingredients. Alfred took the mixing bowl off the stand mixer then, and folded in the peanut butter chips and finely chopped peanut pieces. "Now we let it chill for an hour," he told her. "Nearly all cookie doughs benefit from chilling. For gingerbread, it is essential. Once it is chilled, we will scoop it out and bake it for about thirteen minutes at 350 degrees. Of course, once we begin baking, the scent will summon Master Jason, so I always make a double batch."

Kala watched him affectionately. "Alfred, you know Jay's lucky to have you," she said quietly. "They all are. But Jay really needs someone like you in his life. He's not used to anyone noticing and caring about what he likes, and making sure he gets that."

Alfred placed one hand on her shoulder, and looked at her seriously. "Just as he needs _you_ in his life, for much the same reasons."


	29. Maybe Just a Cigarette More

About an hour later, Kala finally came out of the kitchen looking triumphant, and the razzing had died down enough by then that no one wanted to start it up again. Dick, however, sat up with a grin, and Jay rolled his eyes, knowing what was coming. "Now that we have both our resident singers in the room, I propose we go caroling."

"Jesus _fuck_," Jay groaned. "_No_. I am not standing around in the snow singing to people in Bristol. Fuck that."

"Language," Donna said, frowning despite Lian not being in the room. Jay stuck his tongue out at her and repeated the sentence in German just for the hell of it.

That perked Kala right up, tilting her head curiously. He'd forgotten she hadn't been with them long enough to have really gotten a good grasp of all their backgrounds. "We have another resident singer? You guys have been keeping secrets."

"I never told you that?" Dinah said, smiling. "I used to be a lounge singer. There's a reason my code name is Canary."

"Seriously?" Kala brightened, grinning back, and Jay knew they were stuck with singing. If he was lucky, they'd keep it indoors. Dick saw his opportunity, and turned up the radio. Jay managed not to get roped in, going to help Alfred make hot chocolate for everyone instead.

In the kitchen at least, there was peace and quiet. "Have you had a good Christmas, Master Jason?" Alfred asked him, taking milk and cream from the fridge.

"Best one in a long time," Jay replied, deciding to be honest because it was Alfred asking. "I get to be home, and see _you_."

Alfred smiled, his eyes twinkling, and handed Jay a chopping block and several bars of fancy Belgian chocolate. "If you would be so kind as to chop those while I begin warming the cream and milk? And as much good as it does me to hear that I've made this Christmas a good one for you, Master Jason, I do believe much of the credit goes to Miss Kala."

"Well, yeah, it's partly because she's here, but I can't deny that it's good to be home," Jay said, pulling the chef's knife from the chopping block. Alfred had let him do this, the last few years before his near-death, and he knew the routine well. The recipe for hot chocolate – never cocoa – began with good chocolate bars, both dark and semisweet, chopped finely. Alfred set the kettle on as he measured and poured the dairy ingredients into a pan, warming them gently. Jay would pour a small measure of boiling water over the chocolate and quickly whisk it to melt the fragments, and then Alfred would add the hot cream and milk. Jay would whisk the whole thing together with some vanilla extract, a pinch of salt, and a little sugar, while Alfred whipped up a batch of fresh cream. Each cup would get a portion of rich, creamy, delicious hot chocolate, a mound of sweet whipped cream, and a tiny drizzle of chocolate syrup to top it off.

"It is _very_ good to have you home," Alfred said, his voice quiet but full of emphasis.

"Careful, people will think you missed me," Jay warned.

"I wager everyone who spoke with us in the years of your absence knew we missed you," Alfred informed him. The kettle whistled, and Jay reached across to pour the boiling water into a measuring cup, then add the right amount to the chocolate. Watching him, stirring the warming dairy ingredients, Alfred mused, "It is one of life's ironies that you, who needed to know it most, were perhaps the only one who did not realize how deeply we mourned."

"I should've known you would," Jay said, feeling obscurely guilty as he whisked the chocolate. "The Lazarus Pit tends to make you believe the worst, though."

Alfred turned to him, his gaze serious. "I never meant to imply you were at fault. You cannot be blamed for misapprehension. It is Christmas, Master Jason. Let bygones be bygones, and let us enjoy this season together, rather that mourn the ones we lost."

"That sounds like good advice," Jay admitted, and focused on the hot chocolate.

"Of course it is. It came from me," Alfred teased gently.

…

Talia put down her thermal scope with a sigh, continuing to look in the direction of the faint heat signature she'd been tracking. Cain and Brown had chosen a good location, but they would need to move soon. Shiva's men – and the League's own – were patrolling the area with some regularity. So far the two girls had stayed out of trouble by being extremely careful; they would need luck on their side to continue remaining undetected.

It still rankled with her that Barbara Gordon had the unmitigated _gall_ to ask her to look after them. She was not one of Bruce's soldiers, nor one of Oracle's birds, and not some mercenary either who could be bought with the right bribe. Barbara had appealed to her on the one level she could not deny; these were mere _girls_, treading in far deeper waters than they knew. Talia herself had already killed, more than once and not only in self-defense, by the time she was their age. Yet she recognized that her childhood had prepared her for the life of an adult warrior far better and far earlier than most. Even Cain, shaped like a weapon by her own father, likely still enjoyed an innocence that Talia had lost by the time she was seventeen. Brown was a liability here, remaining only because of her personal loyalty to Cain. That one had had a normal upbringing, or as normal as one could get in Gotham.

Most irksome of all was that Talia would look after them, whether Oracle had asked her to or not. They were both important to Bruce, and Talia herself had not developed her father's objectivity. She could not see the loss of two bright young women as mere counters in a greater game. For her, it would be personal, as Jason's death had been personal. As _all_ of it was personal, no matter how skillfully she denied it or how little her Beloved believed it.

Oracle knew, or thought she knew, and Talia ground her teeth to have her weak sentimentality exposed. At least she was presently getting some use out of it. Thanks to Oracle, she now had access to Shiva's emails, but they were damnably generic; she didn't even know for certain if Shiva _knew_ what the prize in the Tibesti compound truly was. Talia hoped that Shiva remained in the dark, and that the men posted there would remain loyal.

She knew better than to trust in hope, however. Adem had infiltrated Shiva's ranks, but he wasn't trusted enough yet to get Talia the information she needed. Shiva's forces were planning an assault, but they were damned slow about it, content to watch and wait. It seemed more and more like they knew what the mountains held.

That was knowledge Talia would kill until her sword was dyed red to keep hidden. She hadn't even told Adem, but then, he understood that some secrets were too dangerous to hold. He knew better than to expect Talia to tell him _everything_ she knew; their relationship, at its core, was business first.

With one more glance down the valley toward where Oracle's girls were camped, Talia slipped back inside the shepherd's hut where she was hiding. Adem would be calling in, shortly, and she could not afford to be in the open when she was even slightly distracted. Talia knew perfectly well that any hint of _her_ presence here would alter Shiva's plans significantly. She was too valuable a hostage to ignore, and she knew far too much.

Which was why Adem also did not know that she was already up in the mountains. He thought she remained in Sabha. And there was no good reason for her not to answer her phone at the prearranged time, if she were still holed up in their rooms in the city. Not telling him that she'd moved was another piece of insurance. If he were discovered and tortured – or if Shiva managed to suborn him – he couldn't reveal her to her foes.

The phone rang precisely on time, and Talia answered. They were following a prearranged script to avoid suspicion, and she spoke jovially. "Hello, little brother. How is your new job?"

"I keep telling you, I'm not little anymore," he replied in scolding tones, which was their code to inform her that he was all right and no one seemed to be listening to his end of the call. "It's lonely out here, but the pay is good."

Which meant he still hadn't been accepted to Shiva's inner circle, but the prospect of doing so still looked good. Talia had expected that answer. She continued with a line of desultory small talk that was mostly not code, just filler to deceive anyone listening in to either end of the conversation. One of the reasons Adem was her lieutenant was that he was good at such improvisation. Too many of her father's men required detailed instructions for everything. Any of them with too much initiative, however, tended to try to betray the Demon's Head, and died for it. Talia thought she had struck a fine balance with Adem; he had wit and drive enough to be useful, and she'd taken measures to keep him loyal.

Eventually she closed with, "Baba wants to know if you've met a girl yet." That was code for the central question: had he learned what Shiva wanted from the Tibesti compound? If he _did_ know, he'd have to work out a way of getting that information to her, since Talia hadn't told him what was there. She assumed he could figure out some code – or be smart enough to realize that _she_ knew what the most important thing in the compound was, once it was revealed to him.

Adem laughed warmly. "Tell him no, I'm too busy working. There's no time to meet women."

That meant _no_, of course, and Talia laughed back in the same casual tone. "Of course not. He'll be disappointed. You know Baba." More filler, they didn't need any further codes for this exchange.

Adem, however, had something else to say. "Don't worry, little sister. You're still my favorite girl."

Talia pulled the phone away from her for a moment to stare at it. _**Please**__ let that be a reassurance of loyalty, and not some ridiculous sentiment._ "You only say that because you miss me," she told him, and signed off the call, shaking her head at the folly of men.

…

Jay walked out of the kitchen with a tray of hot chocolate only to realize that caroling had become a duet between Dinah and Kala. On, of all things, that damn song _Baby It's Cold Outside_. He knew nothing about vocal registers or range, only that they sounded good together – even if Kala was somehow singing the man's lines.

Everyone else just looked captivated, even Donna seeming impressed. Babs was trying not to laugh out loud as Kala leaned into Dinah's shoulder, expression mournful as she sang, "Think of my lifelong sorrow."

"At least there will be plenty implied," Dinah sang back, her natural range sounding higher than Kala's.

"If you caught pneumonia and died," Kala answered, voice low and warm and rich as ever. So what if Jay had heard every song she'd ever recorded? That was research.

"I really can't stay…"

"Get over that hold out…"

And then they joined voices to harmonize on the last few lines of "Baby it's cold … Baby it's cold, outside…"

Dick applauded first at the end of it, followed by the rest, and Babs finally laughed out loud as Kala grabbed Dinah's hand and they took a bow. "Thank you, Gotham, you've been a great audience," Kala said, laughing.

"It's been a _long_ time since I tried to hold a note that long," Dinah said, smiling. "And I thought you sang higher than me."

"You're _good_," Kala told her, as everyone moved toward Jay and Alfred with the chocolate. "I'm really a lyric mezzo-soprano, I've just had the training to support my voice outside my tessitura so I've got a three-octave range. The highest I can hit is E6, but it gets damn sharp."

Jay raised an eyebrow at her. "I knew _some_ of the words in that sentence."

Dinah chuckled at him. "So did I. Kala, I never went to school for singing. I just know I'm a soprano. And I can break a glass _without_ my powers."

"Oh great, I just went full art-school geek to no one that gets it. Fabulous," Kala laughed. "Tessitura just means where you're comfortable singing. Mezzo-soprano is halfway between soprano and contralto. In opera, they get the 'witches, bitches, and britches' roles: supporting roles, villainesses, and male roles played by women in pants. Heroines are usually sopranos. Did you see the glass-breaking trick on Mythbusters? Putting the straw in it to find the right resonant frequency really helps."

"I did," Dinah admitted. "You did it too?" The doorbell rang, and Alfred set down his tray to answer it.

"The whole band tried it. Actually pulling it off takes a lot of strength to hold the right note long enough. Which, probably part of the reason I can do it is the super-lung-capacity." Kala shrugged, looking a little embarrassed.

"And now I'm afraid for my windows," Jay muttered to Kala's absolute death-glare.

"Just replace them with reinforced acrylic like I did years ago," Babs said dryly, and when they all looked at her, she kept her expression completely deadpan. Dinah managed not to blush, focusing on her hot chocolate.

Kala just continued to glare at Jay over the rim of her mug. Yep, still getting used to having everyone know their business. "If I haven't blown out your windows by now, obviously I'm not going to."

He just shrugged, egging her on. "It's a legitimate concern, K, super powers considered. I mean, that one night…"

"If you're going to show out for company, need I remind you that you're louder than I am?" she grumbled, brow raised evilly, and that peevish expression of hers just made him want to kiss her until she smiled again.

"We know," Selina said, smirking at them both. "At least, those of us who were inside and on the east wing know."

"You shoulda been outside playing in the snow with everyone else. That's your own problem," Jay said, not even a little embarrassed.

Bruce, who hadn't participated in any of the silliness, turned toward the hall with a smile. Alfred returned with Doc Leslie at his side, and she unwound her scarf as she walked. "Clinic's finally closed for the night. That's another quick check that turned into three hours. I hope you pack of hyenas saved me a plate."

"Leslie!" was the unanimous cry, even though except for Kala, they'd all seen her earlier today. Jay grabbed a mug of hot chocolate for her, as pretty much everyone mobbed the poor woman. They'd all resented the fact that she had to leave on Christmas Day, but Leslie had given as many of the clinic staff the day off as possible, and she'd needed to drop in for a little while anyway.

Jay put the mug into her hands, and touched Kala's arm gently. "Doc, I don't think you've met Kala yet. Kala, this is Dr. Leslie Tompkins, best general practitioner in Gotham, resident medical authority, one of the very few people who can tell Bruce what to do and maybe be obeyed."

"That's a stretch," Doc Leslie said, shaking Kala's hand.

There was the smile they'd lost a while ago, his girl warming immediately. "Hi, I've heard a lot about you," Kala told her. "All of it good bordering on hero-worship. Obviously you taught this pack of lost boys some respect. Which is saying something and trust me, I appreciate it."

"They're smart enough not to annoy the person who puts them back together," Leslie said, smiling. "And you're the Blur. I've heard a lot about _you_, too. You get automatic approval because you haven't landed in my clinic yet."

"Oh, to be fair, I probably should've, over the summer," Kala admitted. "Both fortunately and unfortunately, in this case, I have a cheat code. Significant doses of sunlight fixes most of my problems, though. Family trait."

"If only that worked for the rest of these death-defying adrenaline junkies," Leslie sighed, and Jay smiled. Of course Kala liked her and it was mutual.

He could see where this was all going. They'd get settled in, let Leslie eat, and then Dick's idea of family time would come into play again. Jay wanted to avoid that, if possible. Kala might be down to play charades, but he damn sure wasn't.

"Hey, K," he said, pulling her slightly aside. She looked up at him with those gorgeous eyes shining happily – until she remembered the whole thing about breaking glass, and frowned at him.

Jay could only chuckle. "Listen, the diner's open today. Once we're done with the chocolate, what do you say we go in for coffee and tip people their rent? I hate that they have to work. Someone should at least make it worth it."

She paused for a minute, just looking at him with a critical eye. Kala had to know why he wanted a breather; now it was just a case of getting her to agree. Thankfully, that smile flickered again, and she nodded. "Okay, fine. Sounds like a great idea," she told him, only lightly teasing. "Even if it's just an obvious excuse for you to get me alone again. I have to hit an ATM though, I don't carry that kind of cash."

"Shit, I'll pay, I've got it all squirreled away in the apartment. And of course I'm trying to keep you all to myself. That's what I do."

She shook her head at him in amusement, her smile going affectionate then. "So the Amazon says. Cool it, Jaybird, you've got me for a whole week. Three days in, you're not even gonna know what to do with me."

Jay put his arm around her shoulders, and kissed her temple. "Trust me, I know _exactly_ what to do with you."

Kala turned and whispered in his ear, "We can't spend the whole week entirely in bed, no matter how much you missed me."

Snickering – because that _was_ high on his list of 'Things to Do' since they hadn't seen each other in a while – Jay replied, "I also need to update you on everything going on here, and I wanna know how Carl and Julio are doing. So I figure we can actually talk a little bit. With clothes on, even. And away from witnesses. I _like_ this crowd, but there's a lot of them."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "So, we're leaving your family Christmas to go to a diner and be _normal_? You sure you feel okay?"

"Normal people don't leave thousand-dollar tips," Jay pointed out. "C'mon, there's only so much togetherness I can handle. Besides, we'll patrol later. Hopefully Santa saved a mugger or two just for us."

Laughing softly, Kala leaned up and kissed him. "Just for that … no, I won't embarrass you in front of them. But I have reason to know you'll want to stay another hour, at least."

"An hour?" Jay asked, frowning a little. What could be happening in an hour?

She leaned up, her breath tickling his neck as she whispered in his ear, "In another half hour, the peanut butter cookie dough Alfred and I made will be chilled enough to start baking. I know you wouldn't miss that for the world."

Jay knew his eyes had gone comically wide, but damn, if Alfred had made the cookies with her, that meant he'd finally parted with at least _some_ of the famous secret recipe. Maybe even all of it. Which said a lot about how Alfred felt about Kala. Jay couldn't help regarding her with awe, now. "You're right, we'll wait, I'd never miss that," he murmured, pulling her into a hug.

She really was absolutely fuckin' _perfect_.

…

Some hours later, after Kala and Jay had slipped out with their pockets full of cookies and the rest of the family retired for a post-dessert nap before rounds, Bruce sat up in bed. He didn't need an alarm, he always knew when he wanted to get up, and somehow managed to hit that mark every time. As always, he took inventory of himself first; a shoulder injury from the previous week was still sore, but he was fighting fit in all other respects.

He looked toward the window; it was full dark now, a few stars showing in the cold night sky. Time for rounds. Even on Christmas Day, the work never ended.

As Bruce stood up, Selina rolled over into the warm spot he'd left behind, pulling the silk sheets closer around her. "Be safe out there, Bat," she murmured.

"Always," he told her, watching with amusement as Miss Kitty stalked up the bed and settled herself on Selina's hip.

"Liar," Selina told him, opening one eye. "Just try not to get yourself killed on one of the few nights where you know I'll be here waiting for you when you get back."

He bent to kiss her cheek, Selina purring softly. "I never take that for granted."

"Don't get used to it, either," she warned. "Once you put that freak back behind bars – or someone finally caps him – I'm moving back to my own place."

He regarded her with fond exasperation. Selina more than treasured her independence, she was obsessive about it. Any time she had to rely on someone else, it grated on her. Never mind that he also refused to rely on others, or that he had his own cherished obsessions. It was always easier to see others' blind spots.

"You don't have to," was all Bruce said.

Selina gave a throaty chuckle, smiling at him. "It'd _almost_ be worth it to play Lady Wayne for a while. I can fake my way through high society. But think about two things, my dear sweet romantic flying rodent. One, can you _imagine_ how many cats I'd have with this much space?"

"As long as they're all fixed, it's not like I can't afford to take care of them," Bruce told her, gently teasing.

"Mmm. With your acreage, I could bring home big cats. You were worried about Franklin; I get along with tigers." Selina stretched, without jostling Miss Kitty, and then narrowed her eyes a little. "Besides, I doubt the wife would be happy to find me living here. Speaking of which, have you heard from Talia? She still hasn't been back to London, and I'm worried she'll think I rolled over."

"I told Barbara not to call her, which means she did," Bruce replied. "Talia won't allow Stephanie or Cass to come to harm if she can help it – but she'd take offense if I asked her. As long as it comes from Barbara, without my approval, she'll do it without complaint."

Selina sat up then, Miss Kitty jumping down. "You are _so_ goddamn manipulative. Tell me, Bruce, how can you know her so well and still piss her off so much?"

"Says the woman who started a _prank war_ with her," Bruce pointed out. "And angering Talia is unfortunately inevitable, given who we both are. I know that. I assume she does, too."

"And you think _I'm_ playing with fire because I pranked her. She's more likely to take a chunk out of your hide than mine." Miss Kitty rubbed against Selina's arm until she petted the cat, who purred at the attention. Selina sighed and shook her head. "Never mind. I know you won't change. The difference between me and Talia is, I can accept that."

Bruce looked at this woman he loved, and thought – not for the first time – that she saw him too clearly for comfort. And yet she didn't see that changing one's self, something Selina found simple in most respects, was almost impossible for him. She might say she accepted him as he was, but Selina still resented parts of his essential nature. Especially the part that wanted her to stay here and be safe.

She'd told him once that she would love to live with him in the mansion, like a fairytale ending … but that she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she did that. All of it tied in to her independence; she wouldn't even take sides in Gotham, preferring to call herself 'freelance' rather than admit to being a hero or a villain.

Most of the time, Bruce loved that about her, little as he could admit. He knew he had a tendency to see things in black and white; Selina not only brought out all the shades of gray, she gave him color, too.

He leaned down to kiss her again, and Selina snapped her teeth at his cheek before relenting and kissing him. "At least be careful. No one else in town is as much fun to run with. Or from."

That, he could promise.

…

Kala and Jay ended up going on patrol first, planning to hit the diner around their usual post-patrol time. She followed his lead, feeling a little chagrined. "I have to give you your presents tomorrow."

"Hell, having you here is present enough," Jay said staunchly. "C'mon, I wanna show you something."

He took them both deep into the Bowery, stopping at a dark alley that was suspiciously clean. "Check the wall."

Kala did, and frowned. "A harlequin pattern? Is Harley _trying_ to get herself killed?"

"It's not her," Jay said, and gave her the quick rundown of all the incidents since the pimp had been killed. He finished with, "This one was an attempted rape, two nights ago. Woman's going home after a long night at work, guy follows her into an alley, pulls a knife. I got the transcript of her statement; she froze, at first, but when he yanked her blouse open she decided fuck it, he'll probably kill her afterward anyway, she might as well fight back. Kneed him in the balls, got the knife, and slashed his face open. Stabbed him in side when he tried to run. He turned up at the ER and the cops picked him up; his DNA matches a couple other incidents."

"Good for her," Kala said, feeling heat prick at her eyeballs. "Who did the graffiti?"

"No one's been caught yet, but it's popping up everywhere. Probably not one of the regular taggers, all of them look amateurish. The whole East End feels different, K. Like people have decided they're not gonna take this shit anymore. And they're making _Harley_ their symbol."

"About time," Kala said, and heard the coldness in her voice, making sure to check it. The Empress was a survivor, first and foremost. They didn't need anarchy in the streets, but a few more women who learned how dangerous they could be when cornered wasn't exactly a bad thing. It might give pause to some of the slimier predators in Gotham.

"Yeah, I've only got one concern. This has gotta be driving Joker _bugshit_," Jay said. "He got his ass kicked by his girl, and now she's the symbol for everyone who decided they're not gonna be doormats anymore? It's not just _his_ reputation on the line now. It's every thug in the city."

"Is Harley still in Gotham?" Kala asked, her gut churning at the thought of what Joker might do to reassert his supposed superiority.

"Near as we know. She and Ivy haven't been spotted leaving, and they haven't popped up anywhere else. Selina swears she doesn't know where they are, but Bruce thinks she could find them if she had to. Speaking of which… "

Kala's jaw dropped as Jay explained the whole situation with the Southards. "_That_ can never get back to Jokes. I hope the girl never finds out, honestly. Pretty sure Bruce and Babs are gonna be tracking her, from here on in, but so will I. Genetics aren't everything, and she might end up okay, but none of us are gonna let anything happen to her if we can help it."

She nodded. Clearly there had been a lot going down since she'd been out; Jay had hinted at it several times when he called, but it was obviously a little deeper than had been implied. Too much was going on on tonight to dig more, but she'd corner him and get the lay of the land tomorrow, as long as it didn't crop up in things during rounds. Instead, she responded, "Because protecting the innocent is the first thing on your list. Speaking of which, I enlisted my cousin to tutor Carl. He's doing really well. Mom went over there to deliver Christmas gifts. Carl and Julio are still cautious as ever, but they're starting to relax."

Jay scoffed. "_Those_ kids were never innocent, in one sense at least. They're all as jaded as I ever was. But as long as we keep 'em on the right track, they'll turn out fine. What'd you send 'em for Christmas?"

Kala smirked, knowing he was going to roll his eyes. "X-Boxes, for everyone. Plus hair dye for Carl. What did _you_ send?"

"Stockings full of cash," Jay laughed back. "I wonder who they think spoiled 'em more. C'mon, let's go knock some heads in, then we'll go over to the diner and make Mary's night."

Just the thought of going out after all this time sent her blood to humming. It had been weeks since she'd been able to get out here and do her share of clean-up. The part of her that lived for the fight rose, all too ready to go. Kala gave him a low, husky laugh. God, she'd missed this. "I dunno, I might be a little rusty. Still want me to play?"

Jay made a disbelieving noise. "I'm always up for playing with you, in every possible interpretation of that sentence. You'll get back into the swing of it pretty quick, I'm sure."

They shared a look then, both of them grinning. Yeah, there was nothing else in the world like this. Arching a brow, Kala told him, "Let's go find some trouble, Red."

…

Patrol on the night of Christmas day was fairly quiet. Even criminals had families, and most people were tired and mellow after the holiday. People who didn't celebrate were taking it easy, too, since most places were closed on Christmas.

That didn't mean they could entirely _skip_ patrol, though. There were always a few who took advantage of the lull in watchfulness to prey on others. Dick took Donna with him, and it was like the old Titans days again. They made a circuit of the city, putting a stop to what they could, and got back home at a reasonable time. He decided to make a Grayson Special leftovers sandwich, made even more fantastic by using holiday leftovers.

Donna followed him into the kitchen, bemused. It was dark and quiet, except for the radio playing softly on the window sill. Christmas music, of course. "Still eating those five-thousand-calorie sandwiches, huh?"

"I burn it all off," he said, smiling as he put bread in the toaster. "You want one?"

"I shouldn't. We ate like kings not all _that_ long ago." But she smiled, watching him.

"You do want one." Dick beamed at her, that old cajoling smile, and started setting things out to make them each a sandwich.

Donna leaned on the counter, looking thoughtful. At last she asked, "Did the lovebirds make it back in?"

Dick laughed. "Last I heard, they weren't coming back until tomorrow. Probably went to his place. She's enough security – if Joker came at him tonight, I don't think we'd find enough to bury."

"You're being flip, but you know that's true," Donna pointed out.

He paused to meet her gaze. "Yeah, I do. And I've made my peace with it. I don't want to see Supergirl turn killer, but I'm about done with Joker. I won't weep for him, that's for sure."

She shook her head. "Neither would I, to be honest. You know Diana doesn't have quite so many recurring rogues, because she puts hers down. I know it bothers Bruce and Clark, and we all know we can't just kill everyone who steps out of line, but there are some…"

"I know," Dick said quietly, thinking of his own confrontation with Joker, after Jay's apparent death. Worse than the grief and the guilt and the sick helpless rage had been Joker's cruel taunting. If Bruce hadn't stepped in to stop him, Dick might've ended it right then. The only reason he didn't regret letting Joker live was the memory of how broken he'd been when Blockbuster died on his watch. And how delighted Joker would be, to know that even in death he haunted the Bat-family.

It was a shame, really, that Harley hadn't just killed him outright.

Donna jostled him out of his thoughts with another question. "Jay and Kala … are they always like that?"

"What, viciously protective of each other?" Dick asked.

"No, I mean…"

She trailed off, and he grinned. "Cutesy?"

Donna smiled. "Yes. It seems so _odd_ for Jay. I mean, I know he has a gentler side, but this is … very sweet, even for him."

"Please don't tell me how sweet Jay is," Dick teased, and she swatted at his shoulder, blushing. "Also, you weren't here for the beginning of it. I honestly thought they were gonna maim each other. She broke his nose, the second day they knew each other. And he broke her ribs training her. For a while there she looked like an ad for the women's shelter."

"I know there was some antagonism at first. He likes a little conflict in his relationships," Donna said blithely. "But this? They're _adorable_. When they aren't sneaking off to go at it like bunnies."

Dick couldn't help it. He tried to smother his laughter, but come on – Kala and _Jay_? Described as _bunnies_? Even though they likely deserved it – he hadn't forgotten the dawning horror of realizing just why they'd snuck out of the snowball fight, everyone glancing at one another and not saying anything in front of Lian. Ultimately he'd just shaken his head and tried to ignore the implications, even as Donna with her sensitive hearing had frowned and looked pained.

Donna just shrugged, and he controlled his hilarity long enough to give her a real answer. "They are pretty cute. Honestly, I never thought I'd say this, but they're good for each other. And it's nice to see Jay backing down from trying to be a stone-cold badass twenty-four hours a day. I don't know _why_ he's decided to change that _now_, but I like it."

She looked a little reflective, perhaps a little sad. "Yeah … it's good to see him happy."

Watching her, Dick saw the hurt she was trying to conceal. He knew Donna very well; when she loved, it was forever. And she hadn't stopped caring about Jay when they split up. Perhaps she'd thought there could be some kind of reconciliation this Christmas, that she and Jay could figure out what went wrong and fix things between them. Not that she was looking to get him back, she would never trespass on an existing relationship. But she wanted some kind of closure.

Jay had surprised them both by being willing to simply forgive and let go. He was fine around Donna, no awkward tension left there, and he was so completely enamored of Kala that everything else seemed to fade into the background. Dick knew there had been at least one serious conversation between the two exes, but now that Kala was here, Jay was content to enjoy his time with her. He'd never been so relaxed.

And Donna seemed surprised to find herself a bit hurt by that. Jay didn't find peace in rehashing their past; he'd found it in moving forward, moving onward. It wasn't that Donna meant _nothing_ to him now, but she clearly no longer occupied the pedestal he'd put her on through much of his time in the Titans.

Dick stepped closer to Donna, forgetting the sandwiches for a moment. He took her hand and pulled her into a hug. "You're still important to him, Don."

She leaned into his shoulder, her hair smelling faintly of rose. "I shouldn't care. I should be happy for him – and I _am_, I always knew he could find his way back here and be happy. I just…"

"Thought he'd find that with you?" Dick suggested, and Donna nodded silently. He sighed, shifting his hands slightly, and began to dance with her to the song currently playing on the radio. "He'd be a lucky man if he did."

"He's a lucky man anyway," Donna said, following along with a slight smile.

Dick didn't have an answer for that, but just being close with her always managed to cajole Donna out of her somber moods. Slow-dancing in the kitchen in the middle of the night, the music faintly scratchy, with sandwich-makings spread out on the counters and abandoned as the two of them swayed together. All sorts of tender feelings woke in Dick's heart; Donna was the only relationship in his life he'd never accidentally burned down. She'd been hurt often enough, by circumstances and people. He didn't want to add so much as a single moment of pain to that.

And he inevitably hurt the people he loved. Dick loved deeply, blindly, and too well. He also knew that he had problems with boundaries, with letting go, and with the difficult conversations that were sometimes necessary in committed relationships. Heck, he had problems with _commitment_ itself. How was it so easy to dedicate his life to fighting crime, and so hard to dedicate himself to one person?

Dick regretted his past mistakes, but he'd made so many of them that he was leery of getting into anything serious again. That reputation following him around – Nightwing, ladies' man, social butterfly, great in bed but no one could keep him for long – seemed to have ruined his chances for anything with another hero. Not to mention, capes were always _on_ somewhere, somehow, and finding time for each other was difficult. Jay and Kala were only managing it because she could fly across the country in a matter of minutes, and both of them were _making_ the time no matter how little of it they had.

Civilians … he had a reputation there, too. Dick Grayson, son of the wealthy playboy who had a different woman on his arm every night, was expected to be as shallow as Bruce pretended to be. And no matter how relaxing it was to hang up the caped business for a while and date a civilian, he ran into the same problems everyone else did. You couldn't tell them the whole truth right away, and then any time after the first date seemed like you'd been hiding things from them, and of course the whole 'dating me puts you right in the line of fire for all of my enemies'.

Just now, he had a friends-with-benefits arrangement with a woman on the force, which for once was aboveboard and known to her other boyfriend. He traveled a lot on business, and Dick had met the guy. Luckily he knew about polyamory from dating Kori – she'd never been angry about him and Babs, she'd been angry that he didn't _ask_ her first – and the whole thing was pretty wholesome, if temporary by nature. It served, for now, and his girlfriend's boyfriend was home for the holidays, so here Dick was, at Wayne Manor, technically single.

And currently dancing with a beautiful woman who looked up at him with the most richly blue eyes he'd ever seen.

If he was honest, Donna was another reason why his relationships tended to be short-lived. She was his best friend, the closest person to his heart outside of family, and no one he'd ever dated was a higher priority. Except maybe Babs, when they were together. If Donna needed him, he'd be there, no matter what else happened. They'd been through too much together _not_ to be that way about each other. Babs had understood that – there was an element of it in their relationship, though after the shooting, Babs had stopped letting herself _need_ anyone. Especially anyone from before the injury. He'd cried on Donna's shoulder over it, more than once. Oh, he understood now why Babs had needed to reinvent herself, why she'd been unable to see the difference between compassion and pity, it was just unfortunate that he'd been a casualty of her rebuilding her sense of self.

Kori had understood the Donna situation. Helena … he and Helena were a trainwreck, honestly. Not that it had stopped him two nights ago, when she'd given him that smile he remembered and told him, "The nice thing about being Catholic is that your sins can be forgiven." Then again, what he and Helena had had was more of a complicated friends-with-benefits than a relationship. They knew each other well enough to have a good time, and they both knew better than to try for anything serious.

Really, he and Helena were too much alike in some ways. They both got treated to Babs' judgmental eyebrow for their casual exploits, but he suspected she was keeping things light for the same reasons he did. Dick loved _too_ deeply, he'd had his heart broken in epic fashion, and now he was wary of anything really intense. Like him, Helena had watched her entire family die, and that tended to give a kid serious abandonment issues already.

"What are you thinking?" Donna asked him softly.

Dick smiled at her. He was thinking about every woman he knew _but_ her, because he knew if he thought too much about how nice it was to dance with her like this, he'd do something stupid. Like kiss her. And if he did that, he might as well just throw himself in the harbor, because he couldn't stand being the one to hurt her.

Donna was _home_. And Donna was the _one_ relationship he'd never screwed up.

"Honestly? I'm thinking about that sandwich," Dick said lightly.

She laughed, and smacked his shoulder lightly. "_Men_. Diana always says, when you look like you're thinking deep thoughts, it usually just means you're hungry."

"Diana has a biased view of mankind," Dick said with a grin. And then he said what he could only say to her, without it triggering a whole host of other issues. "I love you, Don."

"I love you, too. Now make the sandwiches before you start chewing on my hand." She stepped back, running a playful hand through his hair.

It never would've occurred to Dick that Donna was hiding as much of what she thought about as he was.


	30. Voice a Beacon in the Night

**Trigger warning:** discussion of animal cruelty in the last scene, and brief description of posthumous interference with an animal's corpse. Joker has no limits, and he wanted to send a message to Selina. No living animals were abused at any point.

* * *

Patrolling with Kala was a lot like everything else with Kala: smooth, damn near perfect, and a helluva lot of fun. Jay couldn't let down his guard entirely – Joker was still out there, after all – but the streets were a little quieter tonight, and he could just enjoy her.

They stopped a street-level drug deal with their usual efficient teamwork: Kala blurred up and got the attention of both buyers and sellers, then Jay flanked her and they left everyone bagged and tagged. Jay paused, looking at the dealer and the small amount of product they'd seized. "Man, this isn't even gonna get you three months. Maybe I should break some bones, give you an incentive to quit selling."

"C'mon, man, everybody's gotta make a living," the dealer groused. Jay scoffed; the guy was damn near pissing himself from the way Kala had just _appeared_ and snatched his gun. So many of them tried to talk tough anyway.

"Find a living that doesn't kill people," Jay advised, dragging him away from his buyer. "Now, are your ribs gonna be enough? Or you want your arms broken too?"

"So's I can go to the ER and get another medical bill to pay off?" Fucking hell, this one was mouthy.

Kala tilted her head sideways, standing next to Jay. "You wanna pay your bills, talk to the Wayne Foundation, they've got all kinds of job fairs and assistance programs. I'll spare you my partner's DARE lecture, and just say this is _not_ the way."

Jay thought about elbowing her for that one, but instead he just told the dealer, "Of course, you're not the one I want. I'm after the big fish, and you're basically a guppy." Kala's eyes flashed in amusement, and Jay managed not to chuckle. "Got a name for me? Your boss' boss would be nice. Maybe you can go to jail without stopping by the hospital."

The man's eyes shifted, and he spat out a name. "Eggs. Just Eggs. He's in the Narrows."

"Thanks, we appreciate that," Kala said, keeping a straight face; Jay never would.

They gave the name to Babs, who sent them a list of locations frequented by Edward 'Eggs' Benedict. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Kala said as soon as she heard it. "Jeez, do they _all_ have shitty street names?"

"Hell, all the other kids probably called him Eggs growing up. It's a wonder he survived the Bowery with a name like fuckin' Edward Benedict." Jay chuckled under his breath. "If this dude is anything less than six-five and 250 pounds I'm gonna laugh in his fuckin' face. _Eggs_. I can't believe some fucker named _Eggs_ is running drugs in my town."

They'd had that conversation in front of the dealer, watching over him while they waited for the cops, and the man looked on with increasing dismay. "Hey man … I don't care if you get your shit wrecked or nothin', but you do _not_ make fun of his name. He's a scary fuck."

"Don't know if it escaped you, but we eat scary fuckers for breakfast," Kala said absently. "We'll be fine, thanks for the concern."

Jay bit his lip hard not to make some comment on the scarily powerful woman _he_ got to have for breakfast. "You are talking to the scariest fuck in Gotham. You guys really don't remember eight heads in a duffel bag, and it only took me two hours?"

"Stop bragging, it's uncouth," Kala scolded.

"Do I fucking look couth to you? Not like you can judge, you damn near made Scarecrow piss himself," Jay shot back. "Let's go. If these two wiggle out of their zip ties before the cops get here, call it a Christmas miracle. Maybe they'll go home and rethink their choices."

Kala blurred them both away, and they set out to hunt a dealer. Eggs turned out to be a mid-level guy, part of the Falcones' protection racket, and the more information Babs sent them, the more it sounded like he needed to be taken off the street _quickly_. Her digitized voice informed them, "His file reads like a true psychopath. He does his job extremely well to be placed where he is and not be a relative of the main Falcone family, but when someone crosses him, he gets very violent, very fast."

"What a shame he's about to meet us," Kala said. "Hood can do violence on short notice even better, I'll bet."

"I'm tracking his phone. Looks like he's in someplace called the No Holds Bar," Babs said, and read out the address.

Jay immediately started laughing. "Oh, this's gonna be great."

He watched one dark brow up, his girl more than a little curious. Yeah, she was going to be absolutely thrilled with this one. Of all the places to be taking a Super… "Oh God, let me guess. Another terrible dive bar?" Kala teased.

"Nah, it's a strip club." Jay smirked at her, watching her reaction.

And _oh_, her face! Kala's wide-eyed surprise didn't disappoint at all. "A strip club. On Christmas Night. Great. Color me ecstatic. How am I even surprised? "

"Ever been to one before?" Jay asked, guessing he knew the answer.

That narrow-eyed look had him two seconds from laughing his ass off. Oh, yeah, this was going to be all kinds of fun. "_No_," she hissed. "And exactly what the hell reason would I have for being in a strip club, Jay?"

"You like girls, too," he replied, smirking.

"That doesn't mean I go out looking for it like _that_. I generally don't have to pay to see it, Jay," she told him, a little stung at the implication. "I respect that it's a job, and a sometimes well-paying one, but it's not my scene. Besides, the press would have a field-day; think about that for a minute."

Jay decided to needle her a little more. "That's right, I forgot. X-ray vision."

"_Jay!_" Kala looked horrified, but even Babs laughed a little. Hearing that, and being a bit off-balance, Kala growled into her comm, "Shut up, Oracle; regardless of the situation, you took your top off the second time we met. You don't get to start."

"Whoa, wait, what the _fuck_?!" Jay yelped. "Shit I was worried about _Nightwing_, I shoulda been lookin' out for Oracle!"

"It wasn't like that," Babs told him, still chuckling. "Also, don't mention her powers on an open comm."

"Jesus Christ, Red, do not help. I was just trying to shush the Original Troll there," Kala muttered, still not looking at him. Yeah, he had her good and flustered now.

"I want the full details later," he said, and Kala smacked his arm. "Okay, this'll be fun, taking the resident squeaky-clean badass to her first strip club. Rule number one's in the name, K, no touching the dancers."

"I went to an _arts school_, you jackass, a whole lot of our dancers ended up working at clubs because the money's better than ballet. I know the rules, I've just never been to one," she snapped. "Enough, let's go do this. Not like we can walk in the front door in uniform anyway, no one's gonna think we're customers. Also, since when do you hang around strip clubs?"

"It's a way of life in the Bowery. Also, I lived over one for a while in Serbia. The girls liked having someone they could call if a customer got too rough." Jay had had a few drinks in the place, but he'd kept his hands to himself and his mouth shut. At the time, he'd had more on his mind than girls.

Kala relented slightly, but her chin was still up and her shoulders were still tense. "Ever the gentleman. Okay. How are we doing this?" She was uncomfortable, but she was going with it. Because it needed to be done, and because Jay had nettled her enough to make her imperious instead of embarrassed.

"We'll come in via the roof and see if we can spot our target. There should be catwalks and stuff above the stage," Jay told her, amused. This was one for the scrapbook, if he had a scrapbook. At the very least he'd have to tell Dick and Donna about it. 'Where'd you go with your girlfriend on Christmas Night?' 'Oh, a strip club, to beat the crap out of a drug dealer.'

"All right, let's go. Soonest begun and all that," Kala replied, and reached for him. Jay was surprised how easily he'd adapted to flying with her now. It really was the most efficient way to get around.

…

Kala landed on the roof of the strip club and immediately winced. "What is it?" Jay asked her.

There was no way to hide it from him, other than stalling for the remaining length of the song. "They're playing _Anything for You_," she groaned.

"Gotta admit, that song is hot," Jay said, and she punched his arm. "Back me up, Oracle?"

"Confirmed, that song is sexy. She still doesn't want to watch someone strip to it," Oracle said, her digitized voice coming clearly through the comms. "Before you taunt her, would you like me to find out how many times you've watched the video on your laptop?"

"Cancel that, Oracle," Jay said hurriedly, and Kala managed a laugh. "Okay, enough, we'll both be professionals. Let's break in and find our guy. Oracle, can we get a visual?"

"Coming right up," she replied, and a photo appeared in her domino lenses. Jay must've gotten the same image in his helmet display, because he scoffed at the same time Kala did.

"Jesus fuck, he _looks_ like the kind of guy whose parents would name him Edward Benedict," Jay groaned. "What is he, like five-eight? Who told him to shave his fuckin' head to fit the nickname?"

"Look at the eyes," Kala said. "You can't always tell in photos, but those look like shark's eyes. No empathy."

"Oh, scary. He's got nothing on Joker. Let's go get him." Jay sounded thoroughly unimpressed, and Kala grinned at him.

They made their way inside through the roof access door, which yielded to Jay's lock gun in seconds. After that it was all stealth and patience, Kala using her x-ray vision to look through doors and walls so they could chart their path. Once again, she was reminded of how agile Jay was. A man his size didn't seem like he should've been able to move so silently, but he always did.

Soon enough they were up in the catwalks above the stage, where the dancer who had chosen _Anything for You_ was finishing her set with a slow, upside-down rotation on the pole. There wasn't a large crowd tonight, but most of them were gathered near the stage, and at least they were generous with money and applause.

Jay, of course, leaned toward Kala and murmured, "She's got good choreography. Maybe you should work that into your next video."

Kala elbowed him. "I've taken a pole class with the band. That's a _helluva_ lot more difficult than it looks. Now shut up and focus on the job, or I'll send you the video of my drummer doing a martini spin."

"Yes ma'am," Jay chuckled, scanning the crowd. They had a good vantage point up here by the lights.

Kala did the same, and their target wasn't by the stage, so she looked toward the booths. Attendance was low, as she sort of hoped on _Christmas_, but there were a few men sitting out there, drinking and watching the show.

"Three o'clock," Jay murmured, and Kala looked that way. The one booth she'd glanced right past, because the man seated there was getting a lap dance and Kala couldn't see him clearly. _Of course_ that was their guy.

Sighing at their luck, Kala murmured, "How do we want to do this?"

"Let the girl get her money first," Jay said quietly.

Which left them both watching. Kala couldn't help feeling profoundly uncomfortable. She was progressive enough to have the ideal that exotic dance was _work_, and deserved respect. She could even look at pole dancing and notice the skill and the coordination it required with admiration. But watching some guy pay to have a woman grind in his lap? That was _deeply_ awkward for Kala, moreso for watching this with Jay beside her.

It didn't help to know that Jay viewed it from a rather different lens. He'd _been_ a sex worker, too. Not that he'd classified it like that at the time, but a thirteen-year-old on his own did what he had to in order to survive. He looked at the customer as just another john, just another man paying for what he couldn't get on his own.

Kala saw it differently. She _knew_ her performances and videos were intentionally sensual, even if she shied away from outright sexual moves. That didn't mean some of her fans weren't watching with lecherous eyes. Kala chose not to focus on that, and she refused to cross certain lines in choreography or costuming, where her father's deeply moral beliefs ran up against the largely soulless marketing of music. Sebast was her unexpected ally in that; he'd whip his shirt off in an instant for a photo or video, but he was the one who asked awkward questions anytime someone tried to get Kala to pose in blatantly sexy ways. There had been one famous photo shoot where the photographer wanted Kala to contort herself so her cleavage and butt were both on display, while Sebast in the same shot stood tall and imposing. _Sebast_ had done the ridiculous pose instead, with Kala standing over him intimidatingly. He'd insisted that they use the photo, which sparked a lot of commentary on expectations for men and women in the entertainment industry.

And yet she knew that her class and upbringing and family gave her a certain amount of privilege, not to mention her powers. There was _never_ going to be a day where Kala had to consider turning her dance training to something like this in order to pay the bills. She had the moves – Jay had ample proof of that – but she'd never have to do it for money. And knowing that she'd never have to make the choice made her feel even more awkward around women who had. She would _never_ judge someone, but she couldn't just enjoy the show, either. Not when all the patrons of the club were staring with hollow hungry eyes. Kala never wanted a dancer to look at her as a potential customer, more as an ally – but without customers, they wouldn't be raking in the money.

The next song finished, and the girl stood up. Their target – Eggs, what a ridiculous name – put a hand out to stop her, and they spoke for a moment as he passed over her tip. "Come on, she's not gonna give you her number," Kala growled under her breath.

"No, this works for us," Jay replied, as the dancer nodded and Eggs stood up. He followed her around the perimeter of the room, and Kala groaned. Of course they were after the kind of man who wanted to go to a private room.

She and Jay worked their way over, staying up in the rigging for the lights, and only once the door was closed did they drop down to the little corridor leading to the private rooms. No one noticed them; the girl on stage had a spectacular act, apparently.

Jay just walked right into the room, catching their target in the act of sitting down with a huge, salacious grin on his face. The dancer whipped around, her eyes wide, and Kala moved to intercept her before she could scream, run out, or otherwise alert someone. Jay, meanwhile, focused on the dealer. "Somebody wanted a private dance?"

Eggs was a little smarter than his ridiculous name. He grabbed for a gun, but Jay flicked a throwing knife into his bicep. "Huh-uh, don't get handsy," he taunted.

_Still_ the bastard tried to fight, yanking the knife out and pitching it at Jay. He missed, and Jay swept in with a roundhouse punched that knocked him back in his seat, but clearly this one wasn't going to go down easily. "Just stay quiet," Kala told the dancer, and turned her attention to their target.

She pushed the speed, finding and removing every weapon Eggs had on him. With his guns and knives scattered across the floor, he still swung at her with bare fists, and Jay dropped him again with a heavy punch to the kidneys. Kala grabbed him by the forearms and shoved him face-down on the table, quickly zip-tying his wrists together.

The dancer tried to skitter out, but Jay blocked her path to the door. "Easy, we're not gonna hurt you," he said, and she stared suspiciously at the implacable helmet. "Relax. We just need to have a conversation with Eggsy here, then we'll be on our way, and he'll be coming with us. I can't have you bringing in club security, though, so just sit tight."

"Why the hell should I?" she challenged. Kala had to give her that; she didn't know if she could've been so gutsy. Especially not while wearing just a thong and a pair of tassels.

Jay just snorted in amusement. "We tip better than he does. C'mon, the guy's a douche, he can't be that great a customer."

"Fuck you," Eggs growled, and Kala lifted up on his arms. With them cuffed, it put pressure on his shoulders, making him clench his teeth not to yelp in pain.

"Shh. Grownups are talking," Jay said to him, then turned back to the dancer. "Just give us five minutes, then we'll be out of your hair, okay?"

"I'll kill you," Eggs managed to say.

Kala shifted her grip, palming the back of his bald head and pressing his face into the table. "Shut up. Right now you're going to jail for dealing. If I ever find out you so much as _faked_ a punch at one of these women, I'll drop-kick you all the way to GCPD headquarters. Can you imagine how much a steel-toed boot hurts when it hits your ribs at mach 3?"

She saw the dancer nod, and Jay turned back to Eggs with slow deliberation. "All right then. Seems you work for the Falcones. I don't expect you to give them up – honestly, I don't expect them to trust you enough to let you know anything important. _But_ I wanna know how your part of the operation works. Who you buy from, who your distributors are, the works."

"How about go fuck yourself," the dealer spat.

"Okay," Jay said lightly, and Kala's head popped up in surprise. "Just kidding, Blur. How about I just cut your eyelids off, Eggs, and make you watch while I filet you?"

Eggs gave a jagged laugh. "Yeah, right. You used to be scary. Everyone knows you run with the Bat now." Kala growled, tightening her grip.

Jay leaned down, and he'd pulled the kris faster than human vision could easily follow. Its point pressed into Eggs' cheek, and Kala leaned on him, holding the man still. She knew Jay wouldn't _really_ do it, but if she let the dealer thrash, he could get hurt. Jay murmured, "That's where you're wrong. Batman's rule is _no killing_. He's not above a little torture, here and there. And I know lots of ways to hurt you without killing you." He drew the blade down slightly, leaving a thin red line in its wake.

He certainly had Eggs' attention, and dropped his voice to a whisper. "I'll tell you a secret, Eggsy. That cute girl holding you down? She's a fuck of a lot scarier than me. You strike me as the kind of dumbass who hasn't figured this out yet, not a big reader or anything, but while you're in prison look up a poem by Kipling, 'The Female of the Species'. Not a big feminist, Kipling, but he knew – women are more dangerous than men. They don't fuck around. We'll talk shit and bluster and carry on, and sometimes we'll let a prick like you go just because you manage to be funny. A woman'll kill you stone dead, and make it hurt every second. Or haven't you been watching what's going on all across the East End?"

Eggs blinked, and Kala leaned a little more of her weight into him. It felt odd, playing the bad cop here, but Jay wasn't really lying. She had the capacity to be more dangerous than he was. The fact that she tried not to be was part of her nature. Jay's conscience would bother him less, after the fact, than hers would.

"So are we gonna have a nice long chat on the way to the police station, Mr. Benedict? Or do I let my partner kick you around a bit first?" The point of Jay's knife rested just beneath the man's eye.

"I'll talk," Eggs said hoarsely.

Kala gave a theatrical sigh. "_Damn_. Well, there goes _my_ evening."

Jay chuckled. "Take him up on the roof, Blur. I'll make my own way out." Even as he spoke, he dipped into Eggs' pocket and came out with the man's wallet.

"And you're making me take out the trash? Rude," Kala joked back, and hauled the man to his feet. She got a secure grip on the back of his jacket and kicked in the speed, knowing it would scare him even worse.

In the club below, she could hear Jay handing over all the cash in Eggs' wallet. "Thanks. Sorry to mess with your evening – I'll let him think we robbed him. I don't want him coming after you."

"You're not gonna tell me to go rethink my choices and get a real job?" the dancer challenged.

"Fuck no, where else can you make this much money in a night legally? Just stay clean and be careful, some of these guys are fucking crazy," Jay laughed, and headed upstairs.

Kala flung Eggs to the gritty roof and stood over him, one foot planted in his belly. "Start talking, _now_." By the time Jay got there, he was already babbling, and her comm was recording everything.

…

Roy felt a little weird sneaking around Wayne Manor, but Lian had woken up in the wee hours of the morning, and she was always stubborn about going back to bed. A glass of water and a story wasn't going to cut it. He figured her metabolism was high, like his own, so a little snack would settled her down.

And he wasn't precisely sneaking. He and Lian were both guests here. There was nothing wrong with walking down to the kitchen and heating up some leftovers. It just felt weird, being all on his own, knowing that everyone else was either out on patrol, or asleep. Roy had chosen to stay in tonight, since he'd patrolled on Christmas Eve, and it wasn't fair to ask Babs to watch Lian all the time.

He hesitated to flick the main lights on, and just clicked on the one over the stove instead. That made the large kitchen seem a little warmer and more human, too. "What do you want to eat, squeaker?" Roy asked softly.

"Pie!" Lian said immediately.

Roy shook his head. "No sweets this late at night, you'll be bouncing off the walls. How about some turkey?"

"Okay. W' mashed potatoes?" Lian asked.

"Sure," he told her. As Roy took things out of the fridge, he saw that someone had already made inroads on the leftovers; probably Dick, and Roy wished he hadn't missed the likely epic sandwich he'd made of them.

He made up a small plate for Lian, allowing her some of Alfred's homemade cranberry sauce, and was just about to put it in the microwave when a gray tabby cat trotted into the kitchen, waving its tail interestedly. "Nice kitty?" Lian said, and held her hand out.

She'd already learned that some of Selina's cats adored being picked up and cuddled – the one brown tabby fell asleep in her arms, and one of the black ones liked to follow her around – but some of them decidedly did _not_. She'd been scared by a chunky black and white cat that screeched in terror when she tried to pet it, and one of the solid grays had hissed and tried to swat her. So now she was extra cautious.

The gray tabby purred and butted its head into her hand, so Lian relaxed and petted it. Roy shook his head slightly and went about making her snack.

"I think that one is Jinx," Dinah said from the hall.

Roy turned to her with a grin, and Lian skipped over for a big hug. He asked, "How does anyone keep them all straight? And aren't like five black ones?"

"Hey, at least we're only dealing with the social ones that are staying inside. Go look around the grounds, there's a dozen or so that won't let anyone near them," Dinah said, coming into the room.

"That one all-gray one isn't social," Roy muttered.

"That's the one Selina calls Hades," Dinah said. "Appropriate, if you ask me. I can kind of tell the black ones apart. There's tiny fluffy, and big fluffy, and regular cat, and huge cat, and Selina's personal cat. You'll know Miss Kitty, she has thumbs."

"Thumbs?" Roy asked, his eyebrows going up.

"She's a polydactyl. Extra toes on her front paws that look like thumbs. At least, that's how Selina explained it when I saw the darn cat open a door." Dinah gave a shrug, and went to the cabinet for a glass, then to the fridge to pour herself some water.

"I'm not looking that close," Roy said. The one named Hades had spooked him a little, too. That damn cat just looked _mean_. Like that Stephen King story about the pet cemetery, only _after_ resurrection.

Wait, better not make that comparison with Jay around.

Although he and Kala weren't in yet. God only knew what those two were doing. Actually, Roy could guess, and he figured they'd gone back to Jay's bunker instead of the Manor to avoid any further comments on their enthusiasm. What the heck, young love was charming. Even on someone like Jay.

Dinah leaned against the fridge while the microwave beeped, and followed Roy and Lian when he herded the little girl toward the table to eat. "Can't sleep?" Roy asked.

"Babs can't," Dinah admitted. "At least she's not waking up all the way, but she's got this tendency to roll and thrash, and you haven't lived until you've been elbowed in the face by a woman who can do fifteen dead-hang pull-ups."

"That's really good," Roy said with some surprise. "Last I checked Navy Seals have to do like twenty."

"She's using her arms all day every day. I think she could out-box me," Dinah admitted.

"Sounds like she already is," Roy teased, and Dinah rumpled his hair. "Seriously, though. Is everything okay?"

She scoffed. "No, not really. Between Joker and Libya, I'm just glad if she can get a few hours of sleep here and there. Half the time she's up in the middle of the night checking on things half a world away."

"What's in Libya?" Roy asked, knowing she probably just needed to talk.

Dinah glanced at Lian, then sighed. "Steph and Cass are tracking down Lady Shiva, who's fooling around with League of Shadows politics in the region. There's something in the country she wants, and we're not sure what it is. Babs thinks that might be where Ra's al Ghul stores some of that green crystal. We _know_ he's got a stockpile, we just don't know _where_, and if that kind of quantity hit the open market, it'd be a free-for-all."

Hearing that made Roy want to swear, but he wouldn't do that in front of Lian any more than Dinah would mention kryptonite. Some things his little squeaker didn't need to worry about. He settled for making a grumpy noise, aware of Lian studiously _not_ staring at them, which meant she was listening closely.

Dinah raked a hand through her hair with a dry chuckle. "Even better, apparently Babs is supplying information to the Demon's Daughter, in return for her trying to keep Cass and Steph safe. I _just_ found out about that one, and I'm not exactly okay with it. Babs has worked with some very dangerous people, over the years. I just think she's being a bit too blasé about Talia al Ghul."

Roy nodded, knowing Dinah wasn't exactly fond of the woman who'd almost been her stepdaughter. Then again, _no one_ talked about that chapter in her life. Dinah had believed in Ra's al Ghul's charming facade completely, and when she'd found out the truth – and found out Babs was _right_ – she'd been horrified.

Lian spoke up then. "Lady Talia is okay. She gave me candy and told Mommy I'm exceptional." She put the next forkful in her mouth as if she hadn't said anything unusual.

Dinah and Roy both swiveled in their seats to stare at her, and Lian paused in her chewing to regard them. "What?" she asked with her mouth full.

"_When_ did you meet Talia al Ghul?" Dinah asked, a little sharply, and Lian frowned.

"Jade gets her for a week, once a year," Roy told her. "It's okay, princess. It's just, Talia isn't always friends with our side of things."

"_Duh_. She's Mommy's boss, an' Mommy works for bad people," Lian said. "But Lady Talia likes kids, Mommy said. And she's nice to me. She can't be _all_ bad if she 'members my favorite candy. Right?"

Dinah's eyes had gone wide, and Roy just shrugged. Kid-logic was hard to refute. "You just have to be careful, Lian. Don't worry, your mom wants you to be safe just like I do. If she let you meet Talia, she must know that she does like kids." Not that he wouldn't be having a stern phone call with Cheshire at some point. _This_ was something he should've been informed of, especially since they had apparently crossed paths more than once. Introducing his daughter to the _Demon's Daughter_ was _not cool_.

Dinah leaned forward, and asked gently, "What do you remember about meeting Talia?"

Lian chewed thoughtfully. "Which time?"

"The last time," Roy said, not wanting to get into how many times Bruce's assassin-slash-love-interest had been chatting with Jade and slipping candy to his kid.

"That was last spring, when I went with Mommy to Quy Nhơn. We were having really good shrimp pancakes and Lady Talia came to have lunch with us. I 'member Mommy thanked her for having the week off, an' Lady Talia asked me about my grades. Then she had to go, and me an' Mommy went to the beach." Lian rattled that off casually, and Roy had to wonder about Talia's motives. He wasn't naïve enough to think that she was just _nice_ enough to make sure Jade got to spend time with her daughter.

"Sounds like fun," Dinah said, keeping her tone level.

"It was! Me an' Mommy got to go snorkeling, and I saw all kinds of fish, and the next day we went to this _cool_ museum a little ways away. It's all about this old emperor guy, Quan Trung, but it had really pretty costumes and cool weapons, an' they do dances and kung fu dem'strations and stuff. Mommy said they're still workin' on it but I liked the dancers." Lian's eyes sparkled, recounting the trip.

It was clear to Roy that having met Talia wasn't interesting enough to keep Lian's attention, and if his daughter _had_ to hang out with Ra's al Ghul's top assassin and administrator, this was the best possible option. "I'm glad you had a good time," he told Lian.

Dinah sighed. "Not that I want to put anything else on Babs' plate, but since she _is_ in communication with Talia…"

Roy shook his head. "Nah. Don't push it yet. Jade hasn't been in touch for a while, and I'm not worried about the princess here just now. Besides, I don't wanna get on her nerves if she's helping Steph and Cass right now. Once things settle down and the mighty Oracle gets a break, we can look into it."

Dinah scoffed at that. "Babs? Take a break? Have you _met_ her, Roy?"

At that, he could only laugh.

…

After they dumped Eggs at the police station, Jay used a burner phone to call in a report of cries for help coming from the man's house. That would get the GCPD in the front door to find all the evidence they needed of his drug-dealing and other illicit activities. "All in a night's work," Jay sighed happily.

Kala crossed her arms, looking displeased. "I don't like that they think they can dismiss you now that you're working with the Bats again."

Jay scoffed. "So what? I don't give a shit what they think."

"I do. I don't want you going all eight-heads-in-a-duffel-bag again, but I don't like them underestimating you." She paced the roof, looking down at the precinct across the street. "Especially not because you're running with me."

"I doubt you're a factor. It's Batman," Jay said. "You forget, these people saw me go to _war_ with the guy, and now we work together. They don't know about all the rest of it, but they think I've softened up."

"And I don't like that, 'cause it's not true," Kala countered. "You told me in the beginning you didn't want to ruin my reputation. I don't want to ruin yours, either."

Jay couldn't help laughing a little. "It's not _you_, K. And anyway, guys like that are talking out their ass half the time anyway. They _hope_ I've gone soft, because if I haven't, they're gonna get stomped on. Just 'cause I put people in jail instead of the morgue doesn't mean I've gone all pacifist and shit. I do what needs to be done. It's just, most of the time there's ways to do it without killing."

"Yeah, there are," she admitted. Jay saw the mulish set of her jaw, and touched her elbow lightly.

"And there are some people who really need killing. We both know Joker's one of them. I'm trying not to be like that saying – to a man whose only tool is a hammer, everything looks like a nail. I need to change up my playbook now and then. It's fine, K. I don't need respect from a bunch of drug-dealing assholes. I get that at home." He drew her close, and she finally relented a little.

"I just don't want it to even _look_ like I'm trying to change you," Kala explained.

She had, and they both knew it. Jay was a lot more comfortable in his own skin, now. He found it easier to let down his guard with Bruce and the rest. And he was letting himself feel things again that he'd kept on lockdown since his resurrection. Those were changes Jay _liked_ and was glad to have made. Not something Kala had pushed him into or demanded of him. It was simply that her presence knocked some things loose inside him, and he'd been able to put them back together in a more functional configuration.

That was more _growth_ than _change_, Jay thought, and he caught her shoulders gently. "You're all right, K. Now if you try to convince me to go vegetarian, we're gonna fight."

Kala laughed. "Yeah, no. I know a losing battle when I see one. I'd never separate you from your beloved chili dogs."

"See? I knew you were the perfect woman for me," Jay said. It was _meant_ as lighthearted teasing, but it echoed a little too truthfully.

She smiled, but there was a little reserve in it. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," he told her. And he was, even if a finger of the cold wind touched the back of his neck, remembering his nightmare. Jay wasn't used to having anything perfect that he could actually keep for long.

Luckily for him, Kala was breaking that streak.

…

At the end of his patrol with Red Robin, Batman stopped by Park Row. Catwoman's building was unusually quiet, with the notice about the fictitious mold abatement plastered on every door. Nothing moved, inside or nearby. That in itself was eerie, and he didn't like seeing the place without lights in the windows or cats on the fire escape.

Tim checked their sensors. "No indications of entry."

"Let's check the roof," Bruce said.

They scaled the building opposite and scoped out the roof before swinging over with their grapnels. Again, nothing seemed disturbed. Selina's apartment had a light in the kitchen on a timer, but that was the only sign of life. All sensors were still green.

"If he's after her, he probably saw this and realized she left," Tim offered.

Bruce shook his head grimly. "He won't give up. Six men from Black Mask's organization were found in a dumpster yesterday morning. Joker is still escalating."

Those men were only found when the garbage truck picked up the load. As soon as it started compressing, blood ran out over the tailgate; Joker had also thrown several gallon bottles of blood from a local slaughterhouse into the same dumpster to create the grisly scene. His theatrical excesses were increasing, and Bruce felt the danger to Selina was still high.

Highest of all, though, was Harley, and she seemed to have disappeared. The longer she remained in hiding, the more drastic Joker's tactics became. Bruce still wanted to catch Harley himself, if he could. He would sit with her 24/7 to keep Joker from killing her if he had to, but while she was running loose, she was a target he couldn't predict or protect.

Tim gave a shudder, thinking of the garbage truck. "He hasn't been here. Let's check the back and go home."

What they found at the back door, however, ensured that they wouldn't be going home without a thorough search of the entire building.

Tim had approached first, then halted. "Is that…?"

"Yes," Bruce said, and walked past him with stony self-control.

Most of Gotham's rogues had _some_ line they wouldn't cross. Scarecrow would fear-toxin the populace at random, but he'd never lay untoward hands on a woman. Poison Ivy would kill men or women in her way, but she'd never harm a child – and she and Harley actually rescued them, on occasion. Black Mask would do a _lot_ of things, including torture a teenage girl who happened to wear a hero costume, but he treated his right hand adviser Ms. Li courteously.

And none of them were cruel to animals. For most, there was no point.

Batman forced himself to examine the cat nailed to Selina's door. Forepaws stretched so unnaturally wide, the shoulder muscles had to have been torn. Back paws nailed together, crossed one over the other, the tail hanging limply down beside them. His flashlight showed a crust of blood on the open mouth and around the tiny nostrils. The whole anatomy of the animal appeared distorted by its pose…

By itself, the sight was gruesome. In the context of Selina's silly cat that liked to sit on the back of Bruce's chair, licking his head and making happy 'mrrowr' noises, this was an obscenity. A coal of outrage flared to life, burning brightly deep in his chest.

Tim gagged, trying to stifle it, and Batman said aloud, "This affects us more strongly because animals are inherently innocent. Not only do they not deserve to be harmed, they cannot fathom _why_. A human being knows there are sadists and murderers in the world. A cat does not have that understanding."

He shone the flashlight on the paws, and felt a slight measure of relief. "This was done postmortem. No bleeding around the nails. Look at the ribcage, it's shattered. And the blood from the nose – that indicates head trauma. This cat was likely hit by a car."

"Joker would've done it to a live cat," Tim said, standing back a few feet. "Catwoman was right to bring them all to the Roost. If he'd caught one of hers…"

Of course he would've done this, and it did not surprise Batman that Joker would stoop to such senseless cruelty. He had done so before, many times. Joker would torture anyone or anything just to get a reaction. "Yes, Catwoman was right to bring them," Bruce said.

"They can all have extra treats tonight," Tim declared.

Bruce nodded grimly. "She shouldn't see this. We'll take it down, and take it to a veterinarian for a necropsy to confirm the cause of death. Say nothing to Catwoman until we get the results back." He'd have the animal cremated or buried, whatever Selina wanted done. It wasn't one of her cats … but to some degree, she considered _all_ cats her own. And this was going to enrage her.


	31. Later On We'll Conspire

The bell on the diner's door jangled as Jay opened it for Kala. To her surprise, the place wasn't empty, but they were the only couple in tonight. Every other customer sat alone, and Kala felt a wave of sympathetic loneliness for them. With a large extended family like hers or Jay's, it was hard to remember that some people had _no one_ on the holidays.

An icy trickle of realization ran down her spine. If not for the way things had changed this year, _Jay_ would've been one of these loners. Kala knew the credit wasn't entirely hers, that Babs and Alfred would've conspired to bring him home by any means necessary. Her being here had just accelerated the process.

Thinking that made her slip her arm around his waist, leaning into his side, and Jay chuckled. He headed for a table toward the back, and the waitress Mary looked up from the coffeemaker to see them both. She smiled, and called out, "Well if it isn't my favorite rhyming couple, Jay and Kay. What the hell are you doing here on Christmas? You gotta have something better to do."

"Had to get away from my family for a little bit," Jay said, sitting down. "Just coffee, please, we've got plenty of leftovers at home."

"And I can't even look at eggs over easy without laughing," Kala said, getting a grin from Jay.

She bustled their way with two mugs and the fresh pot. "Eh, family. Mine are scattered all across the country; comes of marryin' military and movin' all the time. They managed to get together for Thanksgiving, at least."

"That's good," Jay told her.

Kala felt another twinge of conscience. She could fly to visit any of her family whenever she wanted. For a woman working as a waitress, how often could she afford airline tickets to see her far-flung family? "How come you have to work on a holiday?" Kala asked gently.

Mary chortled at her. "I don't _have_ to. I _choose_ to. The other girls have young kids, or they live at home with their family. Let 'em take it off. I'll come in and see my regulars, make some nice tips too. How come you didn't make this big galoot take you someplace better on a holiday?"

"Because we'd rather see you than get sniffed at in someplace that polishes their Michelin stars instead of topping up the coffee," Jay said instantly.

"Ain't you a charmer," Mary told him, and shook her head at both of them before going to refill the other patrons' coffees.

Jay leaned back in the booth with a sigh, smiling at Kala. "It's nice to get some peace and quiet. Lian thinks she can just walk in my room any time and tell me to stop being, and I quote, 'auntie social'. You take a kid on a stealth mission climbing the brickwork to steal cookies _one_ time, and boom, you're the favorite."

That would have surprised her a few months ago, especially to hear him admit it out loud. Not now, though. He was right; some of these changes, some were his own. "Come on. You like it, though," Kala said fondly, smiling back. "Who would've thought, Hood is actually good with kids, if left to his own devices."

"Don't say that out loud at home, Roy'll set me up as babysitter and and actually try to make another move on Donna instead of dancing around it," he warned. "_Those_ two still aren't all the way over each other. He's got his mind on raising Lian, though, I don't think he's actually looking for someone right now. If he was, though, Donna loves the kid."

Kala sipped her coffee, wondering if that was awkward for the Amazon. Donna and Roy had dated, and she obviously had feelings for Dick based on what Kala had noticed on her own and what Jay had told her when he spilled his guts on all his past relationships. And then of course there was Donna's actual history with Jay. "It's a wonder the whole house hasn't imploded. I can't believe you, Dick, Roy, and Donna are all being civil to each other."

"It's the known pacifying effect of having an Amazon around," Jay said, a mischievous gleam in his eye. "You don't fight over them, even Ms. I Liked Being a Housewife would take offense to that, and they _are_ all highly-trained warriors. Tell me you're not still jealous of her at this point, K. I mean, Jesus, she's got nothin' on you."

That had her blinking in surprise, but she took a moment to pause and really think about it. Much to her own relief, most of the lingering discomfort she'd felt over Donna and Jay's past had settled, only causing an occasional twinge. And he didn't have to know about that little green-eyed detail, either. Just the last remnants of resentment fading. "No, no, I'm well over that," Kala demurred with an eye roll before returning his grin. "Earlier today would've solved it, if I hadn't already gotten past it."

He smirked wickedly. "Especially since she probably heard every bit of it."

Kala looked at him in sudden horror. That had been one possibility she had never even considered. Amazons did have enhanced senses, though not at the same level as Kryptonians. At the thought, she could feel her cheeks burning. "Oh my _God_. No. Just … _no_. Jay, that's awful!"

"She can stick her fingers in her ears and hum. You'll have to, if you stay there any length of time while Selina's in." Jay just shrugged.

That didn't help her blush at all. Other consequences she hadn't considered. Better to just stick to her outrage over Donna and her potentially overhearing them. "Just so we're clear, you'd better not have done that just to spite your ex. I _will_ kick your ass," Kala warned with a pointedly-raised brow, ignoring that about Bruce and Selina.

Jay scoffed at her. "Yeah, no. I damn sure wasn't thinking of anyone else when I dragged you upstairs. If you thought I was, you weren't paying attention, and we need to stop by the bunker on the way home so I can prove it."

_Smart man, Mr. Todd_. Kala sat up a little, thoroughly mollified. "Far be it from me to turn down such a sincere offer."

"That's what I thought," he teased, sipping coffee.

They lingered a little, and Kala let herself relax, finally evening out after the crazy rush of the last few days. She and Jay didn't really do _small talk_ that often, there usually wasn't a whole lot of time for it, but this wasn't the place to discuss business in depth. Especially not with it being as quiet as it was tonight; there was no white noise to drown them out. So she told Jay about Kristin learning the family secret, in roundabout terms. In return, he told her about various feline exploits over the past few days – and Jay rolled his eyes when she squeaked a little at the thought of the serval. Kala just shrugged. "Okay, I know they don't belong in people's homes, but servals are _gorgeous_."

"It's a real pretty animal, I'll admit that. I still can't figure out how damn Norway keeps getting into my room. Half the feral ones I haven't even _seen_ since she turned them all loose. " Jay noticed his coffee was empty, and before he could even catch Mary's eye she was there to refill it.

"Cats are just like that," Kala said with a shrug, pausing to thank Mary. "My mom had a cat, Elroy, when she was younger. Eventually he ended up living with my Aunt Lucy because of Mom's completely-nuts schedule before us, back when she was single. It wasn't fair to him when she'd be gone 18 hours at a stretch. Most of the family has dogs now."

Jay stopped, looking at her thoughtfully. "You have a dog?"

"We … I'm never home enough, either. No pets for me right now, sadly. Mom and Dad have two, though. Bagel and Chewie; both female beagles. Daddy Richard and Lana have two dogs, too. And Jason's got _three_ beagles from when Grandpa Ben lived there. They never moved back across the field when he passed away. Plus on any given day the neighbors' pack might turn up at their back door." Kala smiled, remembering the last time that had happened, and how Elise had groaned with a dozen hounds baying in excitement.

"It's kinda weird, thinking about you having pets," Jay admitted.

"My brother has a twenty-year-old iguana," Kala told him. "I had ferrets. They were just about as infamous as Gazeera. My first male was a cleavage diver, we found out."

Jay couldn't help laughing at that. "I never had pets. Somehow I can see you with ferrets. Weird weaselly things."

"Hey, they were cute and fun," she told him. "And they got into everything. Between them and the lizard, Mom wanted to kill Uncle Perry. I gave both ferrets pirate names. You wanted to be an astronaut as a kid? I wanted to be a pirate."

Jay scoffed. "Bet your dad loved that. Anyone ever tell you the pirates were the bad guys?"

"I never thought of that. Blame Disney. It was all fun. Mom was the one who hated it, because I'd call Jason a scurvy dog and chase him around the house. Not to mention yelling about why the rum was gone, long before I knew what rum _was_. The rest of the family thought it was cute, and I ended up with a whole pirate outfit, a plastic cutlass, the works. Daddy Richard bought me a giant tricorne hat." Kala smiled wistfully.

He looked at her thoughtfully. "You tormented your poor brother, huh?"

"We didn't have a parrot, so I stole his lizard and ran around with a three-foot-long iguana on my shoulder for a sidekick. And yeah, I tormented Jase – isn't that what siblings are for? Although don't feel too bad for him; he was more than capable of getting me back for it. He could pull an angelic face a whole lot faster than I could. I was always a little too proud of myself when I got one over on him, so everyone knew it. But that's what kids do." Kala said with a nostalgic smile.

Jay could only shrug. "Well, I took it a little further than most."

That shook her out of her reverie. Kala threw her napkin at him with a scolding look. "That wasn't entirely your fault, and you know it. Besides, you and Tim made your peace. Speaking of siblings, Jase gave as good as he got, though. And God help anyone else who messed with either of us. We'd fight all day and then turn on other kids together."

"Guess that's true of us, too. I damn sure wouldn't let anyone hurt those assholes, no matter how much hell I give them," Jay replied.

That earned him an amused snort as she smirked and shook her head at him. Understatement of the year. "They're more than just 'those assholes' and we both know it."

"Hey, you're the one who made 'asshole' an affectionate nickname," Jay shot back.

They hadn't touched the silverware laid out on the table, since they weren't eating, but Kala put her hand on the wrapped bundle with a glare at Jay. "Do not make me use the fork of justice."

"Okay, okay. You know I actually like Tim and Dick. Especially now. It's good to be able to spend Christmas with them." As usual, Jay wouldn't admit to the real depth of his feelings, but Kala decided to let it slide.

She and Jay fell into a warm, companionable silence as they finished off their coffee, and when Mary swung back by, Kala told her, "Just the check, please."

"Sure thing," the waitress said, heading for the register.

"Thought I was buying," Jay said, arching a brow.

"The Christmas spirit moved me," Kala said, taking out her wallet. She wanted to leave a really extravagant tip, and since she flew a lot, she tended to carry a few hundred in cash. Better that her card _not_ get flagged every time she used it a thousand miles from where she'd been an hour ago.

Jay just shook his head. "No, K, I got this," he insisted, and took an envelope out from inside his jacket. It looked awfully thick, and Kala just blinked at him. "What? Not my money anyway, I liberated this from some of Mask's accounts that the DA couldn't find to freeze."

"You're incorrigible," Kala said, thinking that this was a fine example of why she found Jay so irresistible.

"You like it," he said.

"If I haven't made that _abundantly_ clear by now, we really do need to go back to your place after this," Kala teased.

Jay grinned, that open smile that touched her heart and warmed her soul. With an expression like that on his face, it was hard to believe his next words _weren't_ going to be those three that she knew he'd never say. And of course, all he said out loud was, "No argument here."

Mary returned with the check, and Jay handed her the envelope. "Share with the chef, okay?"

She paused, looking at him. "Honey, you don't gotta…"

"But I can, so I will. Don't worry, it's not from any illegal activities you'd disapprove of," Jay replied, standing up and touching her shoulder. "Besides, if I didn't, K was gonna, and I made more money than her this week."

"That's what you think," Kala said archly, as she stood up too. "Merry Christmas, Mary. You deserve it, putting up with us. Have a good night. Or morning, more likely, at this point."

"Merry Christmas," she said, and they both headed out, Jay moving fast enough that Kala had to stretch her legs to match his pace.

Catching his arm as they paused to head out the door, Kala gave him a quizzical look. He was up to something, had to be; what on earth was it now? "What's the hurry, Red?" she asked as he caught her hand and pulled her quickly out the door.

"There's five k in that envelope, I don't want her chasing me down trying to return it," Jay said, grinning wickedly as the door dinged closed behind them.

Kala's silvery laughter rang off the cold streets, letting Jay coax her into a bit of a run. "Oh my God, you crazy man, let's _go_!"

…

Going back to his building was a great idea. Jay hadn't felt this light in a long time; he wasn't even worried about being out here when Joker was clearly on the prowl. He had all the backup he needed, right here in his arms. And he pinned Kala against the door the moment they got inside, dipping his head to her neck and doing his damnedest to leave hickeys on that invulnerable skin.

Kala shivered, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "Still working on that backlog, Red?"

"I haven't gotten over missing you yet, no," he told her, intoxicated by that damn perfume of hers. The hell with it, Jay grabbed her ass and picked her up, letting her wrap her legs around his waist with a delighted laugh.

This woman was so impossibly _good_. She was strong enough to turn the tables on him, easily – not three feet away was the dent in the wall that proved it. But she _liked_ him being primal and aggressive with her, too. Jay gave a happy little growl, and bit her neck.

Kala laughed through another shiver of arousal, and kissed his temple. "I haven't gotten over missing you, either. _God_, Red, the times I thought about saying, 'Fuck it,' and letting the label just sue me for breach of contract, as long as I could come to you again…"

"You're here now," he said. "Without getting sued for it. That sucks, y'know? Can you imagine that one going to court? 'Your honor, I wanted to fulfill my contract, but the sex was just too good.' Can't imagine that one getting any sympathy."

She reached up and flicked his ear, gently. "It's not just the sex and you know it."

Rather than answer, and let himself get cockblocked by his own emotions, Jay just nodded and nibbled her perfect neck again. Kala gasped, and arched her back eagerly.

Jay didn't pause until he got her blouse open. They'd changed in the bunker, before and after rounds, and he'd noticed that she hadn't worn the same plainclothes to the diner that she'd worn out of the house last night. Probably because they'd both showered after rounds, but he'd also noticed that she brought her bag with her, despite having some clothes at his place. Jay hadn't thought anything of it at the time, but now he stopped, staring in awe.

Underneath the black blouse – no surprise, she _was_ a Goth girl after all – Kala was wearing red satin and black lace. Oh hot damn, it was a bodysuit, and the deep v-neck framed her pale skin perfectly with black lace floral patterns. "Jesus _fuck_," Jay murmured, impressed.

"Do _not_ cut this off me, or I will literally kill you," Kala told him, her voice serious – but a satisfied sparkle shone in her eyes. "I did not buy a thousand-dollar piece of lingerie to get it destroyed the first damn time I wear it."

"I'm good with that. Hell yeah, I wanna see this again. It's even red and black – wait, you just bought this. Did you get it for me?" Jay asked her, running his hands over her satin-clad sides.

Blushing a little, Kala admitted, "It's not your _only_ Christmas present, but … yeah. I got it with you in mind."

Jay grinned at that, his heart beating faster. "Well, merry fucking Christmas to _me_."

Kala threw her head back and laughed in open delight, cupping his face, and Jay bent to kiss the sweet curve of her breast that the lingerie revealed. She was so fucking perfect…

…

Back at the diner, Mary had called the owner – her husband, James – and he'd come in early to stare at the envelope full of cash. Their short-order cook, Chance, was just as dumbfounded. "Five grand?" Chance whispered. "What's this guy do for a livin'?"

"He said it wasn't from anything illegal that we'd disapprove of," Mary said.

"Which means it's definitely illegal," James put in. "What do you know about him, hon?"

She shrugged. "He looks a little rough, sometimes, and he never sits with his back to the door. I thought maybe one of the gangs, but he doesn't try to act tough. And he's dating this cute cocktail waitress, I don't think she's the kind to put up with that. She's a little outta his league."

Five thousand dollars was a big tip from a guy who wore t-shirts and jeans, and didn't brag about his dot-com start-up. "Maybe it's drugs," James said.

"Nah, he's never high. Haven't seen a dealer yet who didn't dip into their own supply. And he said I wouldn't disapprove." Mary frowned, and then looked thoughtful. "I wonder … maybe he _stole_ it from a dealer? He _has_ come in here before looking like he just walked away from a fight."

"Great, he's the 21st century Robin Hood," Chance scoffed. "Hope Batman makes him stop before he gets shot."

"The girl's not dumb. If he was doing something that crazy on the regular, she wouldn't be in here with him," Mary said. "And those two are so in love, it's ridiculous. If he asks me to put a ring in a pancake, though, I'm gonna smack him in the head and make him take her somewhere nicer than _this_."

James laughed. "They like it here. Maybe they both have money, and they just like your cooking, Chance. Anyway, the way you said he ran out of here, I don't think we can give back the money, and giving it to the cops is useless. So, split it?"

"Yeah, he knew I wasn't gonna just take it, the little smartass," Mary said. "Kay said she was gonna tip high, too, but I bet she didn't have this in mind. Let's split it. Half for us, half for Chance?" She pitched it as a question, but looked at her husband with an eyebrow raised. _They_ were doing fine, they owned a business that was profitable most of the time. Chance was a lot younger, living on his own, and there were always bills to pay.

"Sounds good to me," James agreed, and they spent the next ten minutes convincing Chance to just take the cash already.

…

Bruce let Tim precede him, and got home himself after daybreak. He'd waited for the veterinarian's conclusion, and it matched with his own observation. Joker had found a road-killed cat and nailed it to Selina's door. Disgusting, and an obvious threat, but not as horrifying as if he'd killed a live cat.

He still didn't relish telling Selina about it. She would be incensed, possibly enough so to want to go after Joker immediately, and he was ready to resort to stringent measures to prevent that. Confronting Joker in a frothing rage was suicide, Bruce knew. The Clown was entirely too good at manipulating emotion, and meeting him with anything less than cold, careful logic was a recipe for disaster.

If he had to cuff and sedate Selina – because no handcuffs would hold her long – she would be outraged at him. Enduring her wrath was a small price to pay for sparing her life. He steeled himself to deal with her censure.

Except she wasn't in the master bedroom when he got home. Or anywhere in the Manor, according to the interior cameras and a quick visual search. He checked the Cave next, and she wasn't there either.

The pit of his stomach had gone cold, the same way it had when he'd found Jason's note explaining that he'd left to find his mother. The same way it had when he'd heard the Gordons' address on the police scanner. Bruce went back up into the garage, and saw Selina's favorite of his cars was missing, the green Jaguar XJ.

And just as he came to that conclusion, he felt a paw gently smack his calf. Bruce turned to see Miss Kitty staring up at him, and she gave the tiniest mew, her green eyes intent on his with almost human worry.

He woke Barbara without apology. "I need your help. Selina's gone."

…

Airbrushed foundation was God's gift to masks with unusual skin tones, Harley thought, not for the first time. Pam hated the stuff, but she put up with it, and with containing her long red hair under a dark wig. Harley had given herself a bit of a tan, and worn a curly brunette wig plus glasses that changed the whole shape of her face. They were as incognito as they could possibly be, sitting out on the glassed-in patio of a nice little cafe for breakfast. It was as private as they needed it to be; in the depth of winter, the interior of the restaurant was warmer, and most patrons sat inside. It was warm enough with the morning sun amplified through the glass. Pam was complaining under her breath about not being able to feel the sun through the makeup, but Harley was just glad to see something other than the same four walls.

This outing served two purposes: they were finalizing their travel arrangements, using a burner phone that wouldn't track GPS back to their apartment, and they were meeting Selina, who'd left the protection of her rich boy's palatial mansion for a morning. It was risky for all of them – if _any_ of them were recognized, the best case scenario would be cops. Maybe Bats. Of course, either way that would land them in Arkham, and the _worst_ case scenario would quickly follow, with Joker hunting them down.

Harley _really_ didn't want to die horribly. But come on, who was gonna recognize them?

Selina arrived wearing a wig and a shade of coral lipstick that _really_ was not her. She'd also opted for the trick of wearing glasses to alter the appearance of her face, chunky square lenses in her case, and Harley managed not to laugh out loud. All three of them had gone with brown wigs, too, as being the furthest thing from their usual color. In regular soccer-mom type clothes, they looked like a book club meeting.

"I know," Selina said, sitting down at their table. "Who would've guessed the three of us could look _boring_?"

"It could only be funnier if we picked the same wig," Harley murmured, her eyes alight. There was a certain sorrow hovering over what might be their last meeting for a long time, but she resolutely ignored that.

Pam had been focused on her phone, but she looked up then with a slight smile. "We're set. Tomorrow morning. You'll forgive me for not sharing the details, I hope."

"The less I know, the more I can plausibly deny," Selina replied easily. "I had to slink out this morning during Himself's tennis lesson. At least it makes it a bit easier to dodge the other boyfriend, since he thinks he knows where I am."

Harley just chuckled. "You sure can pick 'em, Kitty."

"I'd say so can you, but I actually approve of your current paramour," Selina teased back with a fond smile.

Pam just huffed at them both. "I live and die for your approval, you know."

"You love me," Selina said with a smile.

"You're useful," Pam said archly, and Harley beamed at them both.

They'd picked a secluded table in the corner, but the waiter had still seen Selina sit down, and approached to take all of their orders now that the group was complete. Harley got her usual breakfast sandwich, on a croissant this time, Selina got an egg white omelet, and Pam opted for french toast. Their coffee orders were a bit more complicated, and with those taken as well, the waiter left them in an awkward silence. There were too many things all of them felt, but no one wanted to say in a public space. Not to mention, they were all on guard to make sure they didn't say anything that might shatter the illusion of three normal women at breakfast.

Harley _hated_ silence. She bit down on the urge to fill it; she'd always been a bit of a rambler.

Selina, of course, was as graceful as her namesake. She just reached for Harley's hand, and when Harley took it, Selina laced their fingers together tightly. "I'm gonna miss you so, so much," Selina told her.

Harley tried to smile, but it wavered and broke, and she felt tears threatening to spill. She grabbed one of the napkins from the table and dabbed at her eyes. "Way to go right for the heart there," she muttered.

"It's the truth," Selina said. And then she reached for Pam's hand, too, fearless despite knowing full well how toxic Poison Ivy could be. Unless Pam was making a conscious effort to be harmless, it generally wasn't safe to touch her.

Pam slipped her hand into Selina's with a sad little smile. "I'll miss you, too."

"Right back at you," Selina said intently.

"Y'know, it's weird," Harley said, still dabbing her eyes with her free hand. "When we did that job together, the whole _point_ was that it was gonna be the last one, right? That we were gettin' the money to move. And yet it didn't feel like _the last job_. Not like how this feels like _the last breakfast_."

"Don't think of it like that," Selina urged, squeezing her fingers gently. "It's going to be the last one for a while, but not the last one _ever_. Stranger things have happened. I mean, six months ago, none of us would've guessed we'd be here. Or that you two would be moving out together."

"Wished for it, perhaps, but never dreamed it would happen," Pam agreed.

Harley flinched a little at that. "I'm so sorry. I … I should've done this a long time ago. I shouldn't have strung you along. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, Pammy, and I almost didn't see it."

"Someone else didn't _let_ you see it," Pam corrected. "He was in your head, love."

"So were you," Harley told her. "Sometimes I'd hear your voice and … I wouldn't let myself listen, but you were there. Telling me I deserved better."

"Sweetheart, everyone including my leather-clad boyfriend knows you deserve better," Selina said. "By the way, that whole flock … I wouldn't say _supports_, because that just makes it sound like they donated to a pride parade. But they're of the opinion that you two are good for each other."

"I know we are," Pam said frostily. She drew back her hand; sometimes her temper made her powers manifest subconsciously. "I don't need a bunch of self-righteous do-gooders to _approve_ of my relationship choices."

Selina hastened to mollify her. "It's not like that. It's just … they get it, you know? A lot of them have dysfunctional relationships and screwed-up exes, too. They might hate what we do, but they don't hate us for what we are. And as weird as it sounds, they want you to be _happy_."

"Mostly 'cause happy people don't go on killing sprees," Harley murmured, and even Pam chuckled a little at that.

Their drinks arrived, and they all thanked the waiter. Another silence descended, more comfortable this time, and still Harley felt the urge to break it. "Y'know, hon … you could always come back with us. Just for a little while. For old times' sake."

Selina sighed, and squeezed her fingers again. "Much as I'd like to, I want to be able to look Tall Dark and Righteous in the eyes and honestly say I don't know where you are."

"I really don't envy you. That's a narrow and twisty road you've chosen to walk," Pam said, watching Selina's face.

She only shrugged. "He's worth it. If things had been different, he'd be the one. As it is, I'm glad to take what I can get. And it's fun, too."

"He never struck me as _fun_," Harley said, arching a brow. True, she and Joker had played plenty of tricks on Batman, and had fun running from him. But she couldn't see the guy being cool in a relationship. Much too serious for that. Now Selina's other man, Mr. Bruce Wayne, _he_ would probably be fun to play with for a while – until the complete rich-boy lack of common sense drove her to despair. Honestly, she didn't envy Selina either. She'd picked a difficult set of moral choices, balancing between heroes and villains, helping Batman one night and being chased across the rooftops the next – and falling in bed with him either way.

Selina gave her a smile. "Trust me, way down deep under that brooding exterior, there lurks a functioning sense of humor. He doesn't let it out often, but I've made it my business to keep it alive despite his job and this town."

"_Him_ with a sense of humor may be the most terrifying thing I've ever heard of," Pam said archly.

"Yeah, he never laughed at any of my jokes," Harley said mournfully. Was that a twinge of regret? Was she actually going to miss _Batsy_? Missing her friends, her favorite places, her _family_, all of that was understandable, but to her own surprise she felt a bit of melancholy over maybe never seeing _Batman_ again.

Good thing she was leaving, Gotham had finally succeeded in driving her _really_ crazy.

Breakfast arrived, and Selina took a bite before asking, "How's Bud?"

"_Much_ better," Harley told her with a relieved smile. "He actually snapped at Lou for stealing his marrow bone yesterday. His fur's growing back in, and he's getting around a lot better, too."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it. I hope both the boys settle in wherever you two wind up," Selina said.

"They will," Harley said. "They're social animals. As long as they've got us and each other, they'll be all right."

The three of them dragged breakfast out with small talk, lingering over the last crumbs. Selina insisted on getting the check – well, she was staying with a billionaire, she could probably find fifty bucks in the sofa cushions.

And then the moment Harley was dreading arrived: standing outside the cafe together, and Selina's car was one direction, their safehouse was another. Time to part ways, and this was the end of an era.

Harley remembered the time she and Pam had moved in with Selina for six months. She'd been trying like hell to get over Joker after he'd kicked her out, and Pam had been between living situations at the moment, so Selina stepped in. She'd even had strong words with the Bat, basically telling him if he wanted to be able to find her, he had to agree not to arrest her friends while they were in her home. For a wonder, he'd _agreed_. And cast very suspicious eyes on Harley, a time or two, as she sat on Selina's couch eating ice cream as innocently as possible.

Those had been good months, _fun_ months, full of laughter and wine and good takeout and movie marathons. The closest thing Harley had ever had to a normal life, in a lot of ways. And even though it all kind of went to hell, what with Selina double-crossing them both back into Arkham to keep them safe, they'd stayed friends.

Standing in the weak morning light, Selina glanced down the street toward the car she'd left a prudent distance away, and sighed. "Write me, okay?" she asked. "Use a good remailing service, just … keep in touch."

"Of course," Pam said with a formal nod.

Harley wasn't that aloof. She bit her lip, and flung her arms around Selina, hugging her tight as she could. Selina hugged her back just as hard. "Thank you, for helpin' me with Lucy," she murmured into Selina's shoulder.

"Of course, Harls," Selina told her, rubbing her back. "_God,_ I'm gonna miss you both."

Harley managed to turn a half-sob into a laugh. "Better work on your aim, then," she tried to joke. Selina smiled at her, that thoroughly charmed, honest smile that so few people ever got to see from the living embodiment of the cat who walked by herself, and Harley couldn't help it. She cupped the nape of Selina's neck and kissed her, hard enough to remember for a while. Not caring that it was something like eight-thirty in the morning on a public street, either. There was just too much she didn't have words for.

Selina smiled into the kiss, and Harley let it linger. It was still something novel for her, to offer affection and be welcomed instead of rebuffed. Then again, Pam and Selina both had always made her feel welcome. Joker had made her feel like she belonged _to_ him, the girls made her feel like she belonged _with_ them.

Selina finally pulled back, her eyes already full of sorrow. Harley smiled sadly. "Love ya, kitty."

"Love you, too," Selina said, and with one final squeeze of her hand, she stepped away. "Love you, Pam."

Smiling sadly, Pam replied, "I'll kill you last." Selina put a hand to her chest as if she'd just declared undying love, and Harley laughed at that familiar bit of absurdity.

Pam took her other hand, nodding to Selina, and then they walked away at last. Harley followed Pam's gentle hand in hers, not seeing the sidewalk under her feet or the streets around them. It finally felt _real_, they were really leaving, she was walking away from the city she'd called her own since graduating college.

Two blocks away, Pam slowed a little, and Harley raised her head miserably. She saw what her lover was looking at immediately: red and black diamonds sprayed on the window of a shop with a closed sign on the door. They didn't linger, Pam tugging her hand, both of them moving on before anyone could notice them and maybe wonder why they were so interested. Or notice how the tears trickling down Harley's cheeks were taking the makeup off as they dripped down her neck.

That started a coal of resentment burning in her chest, though. Here she was, finally becoming a symbol of feminine independence, all while that rat-bastard ex of hers was running her out of her town and away from her friends. People were using her trademark as a rallying cry, as a warning to the abusers and the misogynists, and she was running off with her tail tucked between her legs, still afraid of the man she'd almost killed.

Harley _knew_ she couldn't stay and fight. She trusted Selina's intuition, and every day away from Joker, her head got a little clearer and her own intuition got stronger. If she stayed to fight, she'd die – and likely take everyone she loved with her.

That didn't mean she didn't have to slip out without a whimper of protest.

The resentment and anger in her chest burned a little brighter. Maybe _one_ protest…

…

Kala rolled over and grabbed her phone on the fourth ring. "'lo?" she said blearily.

"Good morning, glad you're alive, can you please confirm that Jay is also alive?" Babs asked, with a brittle edge to her voice.

He was sleepily curling an arm around her waist even as Babs spoke, so Kala answered, "Yes, he's fine, we just decided to sleep at his place since it was closer. What's going on?"

Babs sighed. "You two never came back last night, and Selina slipped out early this morning, disabling the tracking on the car she borrowed. Bruce is … upset. Could you both come in?"

That weighted pause before 'upset' told Kala that Bruce was freaking out much more than the word implied. Babs might be within earshot, though, so she wouldn't add more fuel to the fire by saying 'having a paranoid conniption'. Kala sighed too. "Sure, let me wake Sleeping Beauty here and we'll head in. Do you want me to try to find Selina?" Even as she spoke, she was trying to focus her hearing and pick out the dry, amused tone of Selina's voice from the background every other sound in Gotham City.

"It'd be like looking for a needle in a haystack. We have no idea where she went. I'm trying to scrape traffic cams to find the car she took – if you see a green Jaguar in town, let me know." Babs sounded distinctly nettled.

"I could think of more fun ways to start your morning," Kala said, and they signed off. Only after did she realize Selina had taken the _Jaguar_, of all Bruce's sports cars, and that got her chuckling despite the situation. Of course she'd take the one that fit the cat theme, even if it was a fairly recognizable car.

Waking Jay wasn't going to be easy; they'd been out late last night, and the lingerie had gotten an enthusiastic response once they turned in. Kala turned in his arms and ran her hands through his hair, nuzzling his cheek. "Jay? Red, we gotta get up. Bruce is freaking out, Selina snuck out of the Manor, he's worried about us too. C'mon, Jay, rise and shine."

He opened one bleary eye, and smiled at her. "Got the rise, anyway. Not gonna shine."

"No, we don't have time for wake-up sex, greedy," she told him gently, stroking her thumb across his cheekbone. "Did you even hear the first part of that? Babs called. Bruce is upset. Selina disappeared. C'mon."

"Ah, _fuck_," Jay groaned. "What the hell is up with Selina?"

"She took a car and went out. Disabled tracking on the car so Babs can't find her. Bruce is worried about her. He's worried about us, too. C'mon, let's throw some clothes on and get over there before he has a meltdown." Kala coaxed him patiently, and Jay finally sat up, rubbing his hands over his face.

Fifteen minutes later they were at the Manor, walking into the entire family gathered around a couple laptops in the dining room. Bruce whirled on them with a stern glower. "_Jason_. Why didn't you come home last night?" he demanded.

"Fucking _chill_, I'm not fifteen anymore," Jay shot back. "We thought we'd be nice and have our noisy satisfying sex where everybody _didn't_ have to hear it." That earned stifled laughter from Dinah and Roy, a facepalm from Donna, and rolled eyes from Tim.

What was it with these damn men and the never-ending trolling? Even now, she was still adjusting to be actual fact that the entire family knew what they were up to. "_Jay!_" Kala hissed in irritation, smacking his arm.

"No, you're not fifteen, you were more careful at that age," Bruce retorted. "No one cares about your sex life, Jason, this house survived Dick's adolescence and my own. At least if you're here rattling the entire east wing I know you're _safe_."

Jay drew breath to reply, but Kala squeezed his elbow and stepped in front of him, holding up her arms in a time-out signal. "_Whoa_. Uncle Bruce, I understand you were worried about us. But we're okay. Jay's building is almost as safe as the Manor, and I was there – it's very difficult to sneak up on me. We're fine. Now let's get to work on finding Selina. That's more important than having a yelling match, all right?"

Bruce lowered his head like a bull about to charge, then let out a heavy sigh. "If you'd seen what I saw last night, you'd understand why it's urgent that we find her. Barbara updated you – I assume you didn't see the car?"

"No, and I don't hear her voice, either," Kala said with some chagrin. "She might not be talking right now, or I might not just have a good enough lock on it."

Jay had stopped to stare at her. "You can pick one person's voice out of the whole city like that?"

"Sometimes, if I know them well enough," Kala said. "I could tell you what Mom, Dad, Jase, or Elise was saying right now, no matter where they were. Babs, any luck on the car?"

"It was parked for an hour, but it's moving again and she knows where most of the cameras are," Babs replied.

"Where did she park?" Bruce asked, turning away from Kala and Jay to go look over Babs' shoulder.

Kala looked at Jay with her eyebrow raised. He just shrugged. They both headed toward the table, ready to join the brainstorming session or go out and search. Babs was reading off an address, and Bruce was looking at a map of the city with a frown, when Kala suddenly stopped. "What is it, K?" Jay asked, but she shushed him.

"There's a car slowing down on the road near this driveway," she said, turning that way. All of them turned, listening, though only Donna had a chance of hearing it at this distance.

"It's the Jaguar," Babs said, pulling up the gate camera.

Kala let her eyes go unfocused, looking through the walls toward the drive. Her x-ray vision wasn't as clear or as piercing as Jason's, and neither of them were as good as Dad, but she could see the car. And, as it drove up toward the house, she saw the driver. "That's Selina. She's fine, Uncle Bruce, she's right here."

He let out a breath that none of them realized he'd been holding, and leaned back against the table. For a moment Bruce Wayne looked every minute of his age, with every loss and failure that haunted him written in his expression. Kala wanted to hug him, but like Jay he was notorious for confusing compassion with pity. Everyone looked away, pretending not to notice the moment of vulnerability.

By the time Selina had parked the car and walked in from the garage, though, Bruce had recovered his equilibrium. "What were you thinking? _Were_ you thinking?" he snapped.

Selina all but skidded to a halt, whatever she'd been planning to say silenced by that abrupt attack. Kala saw her shock plainly for the instant it took her to get just as angry as Bruce was. "_Down,_ boy," she shot back, bristling. "Last I checked I don't need your damn permission to leave the house. I'm not your wife – and you need to call Interpol to find _her_, anyway."

"Don't be ridiculous," Bruce growled. "This has nothing to do with your obsession with independence–"

"My _perfectly justifiable_ interest in remaining independent is directly related to _your_ obsession with knowing everything and controlling everything within your reach," Selina spat, cutting him off.

He raised his voice to continue, "It has _everything_ to do with you sneaking out of the house to go wander around the city … or no, you went to meet Harley, didn't you? Of course, that's why you disabled tracking on the car."

"_Exactly_. I went to go see _my friend_ because she's going to be _leaving the country_ for an undetermined length of time so her psychotic abusive ex doesn't _torture her to death_. And I left while you were still out brooding on rooftops because if I'd told you where I was going, you'd follow me. If I didn't disable the tracking on the car, you'd follow me. And then you'd arrest her and she'd be sitting in Arkham for Joker to collect at his leisure." Selina stalked forward as she spoke, arms crossed and eyes flashing, and the entire family sat back trying not to look at either of them.

"I could hold Harley in the Cave, for her own safety," Bruce retorted. "You never _asked_, you just _assumed_. Every moment that she's free – meeting up with you in _public coffee shops_ or wherever you arranged this – is a moment she's risking being found by Joker anyway. I don't want her hurt, either. Why do you think I helped you hide the Southards? Do you really think I'd let him catch her?"

"Do you really think you can _stop_ him? Because hello, exhibit A," Selina shot back, pointing at Jay.

Everyone gasped, eyes widening. Kala's jaw dropped, and even Jay muttered, "Whoa _shit_, leave me outta this one!"

The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees, and Bruce _seethed_. Before he could speak, Selina raised her voice. "He's the fucking Joker. No one can really predict him, no one's ever really stopped him for long, not even _you_ and you're the best there is. No one can even kill the lucky sonofabitch, I know Lawton's tried at least twice and he _never_ misses. That's why I've been herding the two of them to just _get out_ ever since this started, and now they're leaving tomorrow morning. They can get lost in the rest of the world, he's not going to be able to track them down. She's _almost_ free, Bruce, I'm not letting you screw it up less than twenty-four hours before Harley's out of his reach at last! So sue me if I wanted to talk to them one more time!"

"And I'm not letting _you_ get killed for sentimental chitchat," Bruce snarled at her, taking a menacing step forward. "He _is_ the Joker. And he nailed a dead cat to your door last night, Selina. He's aiming for _you_, and you're out having breakfast with the only two people in this city he wants to kill _more_ than you. Not to mention, you're driving around town in a fucking _Jaguar_ registered to Bruce Wayne!"

Kala had never heard Uncle Bruce swear. Apparently neither had anyone else, because Babs and Dick both swiveled their heads around in obvious shock.

Selina seemed to contract in on herself in a full body wince. "Ah, _shit_."

"_Precisely_," Bruce ground out. "Not to mention I have your _familiar_ here swatting me and demanding that I do something. If Miss Kitty is upset, it's a good indication that _you_ are doing something needlessly dangerous."

For the first time, Kala noticed that Selina was a few inches shorter than her. She looked strangely diminished, with her expression chagrined. And it only got worse as Miss Kitty stalked toward her from Bruce's side. "I'm sorry, girl," Selina murmured. "I didn't take you because I was trying not to make it obvious who I was. Sounds like I fucked that up anyway."

The black cat stared at her intently, then sneezed, turning her back and walking away to rub against Kala's shins. "Hey, don't bring me into it," Kala said hurriedly, moving back. She got an imperious look from green-gold eyes. "You and Selina fight it out, I'm not stepping into that ring."

Looking genuinely hurt by the cat's dismissal, Selina looked up at Bruce. "I made it back all right, though."

"This time," Bruce said, in tones of cold finality. "Your one blind spot is that you _cannot_ help playing to the cat theme; you didn't even realize you took the _Jaguar_. You _will_ make mistakes, Selina, and any one of them could be your last. If he catches you, he'll kill you. Slowly. Painfully. Disfiguringly. Joker will kill you in ways that will force me to identify your body by dental records and DNA, and he'll _laugh_ while he does it, Selina."

"Okay, enough," Jay said, and only Kala heard the faintest quaver in his voice. "We all know that, Bruce."

"Apparently one of us doesn't know it well enough," Bruce replied. And continued, brutal in his persistence, "You looked me in the eyes last night and told _me_ to be safe, Selina. You promised me you'd be here when I got back. And instead you went out to see _Harley_, the single most-wanted person in all of Gotham right now."

Kala had never seen Selina look browbeaten, and hearing this verbal dressing-down made her nauseous even when it wasn't aimed at her. "I guess it doesn't make any difference that I expected you home a lot earlier, and I was _going_ to slip out and be back while you were sleeping," Selina said, in a small voice.

"It does not," Bruce told her.

At that, Babs cleared her throat. "And why didn't Selina know about the cat nailed to her door the moment you found it, Bruce?"

Both of them turned to look at her in surprise, and Tim answered when Bruce didn't. "We wanted to make sure the cat was already dead when he nailed it up. We were afraid that, if she thought Joker had done that to live animal, Selina would go hunt him down."

"Probably accurate," Selina said. "Give me a minute and I'll be properly furious about that. How did he find a cat? And where is it now?"

"The veterinarian is holding it for cremation or burial. I was going to ask you what should be done," Bruce said, his voice still rough. "The cat was hit by a car and killed. He must have found one on the road."

"So, Selina didn't know that a specific threat had been made towards her," Babs said. "And we really can't blame her for wanting to see Harley and Ivy, or for not telling you she was going to see them. You _would_ follow her, there's no concept of privacy with you and no level of trust that will allow you to let someone you're trying to protect out of your sight. See, the cameras in my apartment after I got out of the hospital."

Uncle Bruce didn't really flinch, but Kala was observant enough to notice the change in posture that would've been a wince on anyone else.

Dinah picked up the thread in a philosophical tone, "Also, Selina, Bruce has spent the last hour thinking that Joker had already caught you, and that the next time he saw you was going to be at a grisly crime scene. So yes, he's overreacting, but you didn't see get to see his face when Kala told him the car was turning into the driveway, and you were in it, alive and unharmed. That was a moment of profound relief. For all of us, really."

Kala really didn't want to draw attention to herself at the moment, but she and Jay had been a factor, too. "It doesn't help that the two of us never came home last night, either. And we know that bastard would like to get hold of Jay, too. The two people most at risk here _both_ weren't home when Uncle Bruce got in, which, I can't blame him for being mad."

Selina just looked at Bruce, and he met her gaze steadily, both of them still hurt and angry, but with the beginnings of fragile forgiveness between them.

The silence hung for a moment longer, and Dick cleared his throat. "This is the part where you both admit that you've done stupid things for noble reasons, apologize, and let yourselves be relieved and glad that no one got hurt. Go on, hug it out."

Bruce didn't even glance at him; Selina cut her eyes his way with the ghost of a smile. Then she looked back at Bruce, her expression worried. Kala was struck by how uncertain she seemed, how delicate for such an outgoing and confident personality.

Neither of them spoke; in Kala's family, there would have been tearful apologies, maybe a little swearing from Mom, and eventual rapprochement. Of course the Bats did things differently.

After a moment, Bruce simply stepped forward, took hold of Selina's shoulders, and murmured, "I'm glad you're safe."

"Me too," she replied, and stepped into his embrace.

"Awwww," Roy said. When everyone turned to look at him and Dinah shoved his shoulder, he feigned embarrassment. "Ooops, sorry, I didn't realize we weren't gonna say it out loud. My bad."


	32. As We Dream by the Fire

**Authors' Note:** We are not the originators of the amusing twist in the Capespotting discussion, here - it's been around the internet for a while. Given how we've used Capespotting in this fic, we couldn't pass it up.

We are able to post earlier because of COVID-19. Coauthor Lois normally works on Sundays, but she's been furloughed since March 28th. Without pay, and _that's_ been lots of fun. We're getting by but we have to be careful, and we're grateful that we're able to pay bills. It is incredibly stressful for someone with Lois' work ethic to not be able to bring home the bacon; she's been stress-cleaning, and we're going to paint the bathroom this week. XD Coauthor Anissa is working alternating shifts - two weeks on, at half-staff and acting as the supervisor, then two weeks off. So far we've been getting a LOT of writing done on the weeks she's off, and almost none when she's on. Even when the job is not physically demanding (looking at you, 15 pallets of fucking computer monitors that weigh over a thousand pounds per pallet and have to be dragged/pushed _uphill, _I don't even want to see a monitor box again until 2021), it's mentally demanding. I stepped down from a supervisory role four years ago, for a good reason. I can't handle the stress. Unfortunately I've been too good at it and my manager is now hinting at making me the team lead for this site...

Enjoy the story, and stay safe and healthy, all of you. We are all in this together. The hit counts and reviews give us life!

* * *

Once things settled down, Selina sat down at the kitchen table for a cup of coffee, still looking a little guilty. Miss Kitty finally made up to her, climbing onto her shoulders and purring loudly. Jay got himself and Kala a cup of coffee each from Alfred, and settled in to drink it, seeing as how he'd missed any chance at caffeine earlier thanks to the abrupt wake-up call. Pretty much everyone else was doing the same thing while Alfred made breakfast, with assistance from Dick and Donna. It made for quite a crowd at the smaller kitchen table, but no one minded the close quarters at a time like this.

"I'll be a good girl and stay inside until this is over," Selina said, turning her mug back and forth in her hands. "I can't … you're _sure_ the cat was already dead, he didn't kill it?"

"The veterinarian said it had been dead for about a day before it was moved. It didn't suffer," Bruce said gently, rubbing a hand over his stubble. "You're not on house arrest. I just … if I don't know where you are, I can't protect you."

Jay spoke up then. "Speaking of which, Selina, you wanna apologize for using me as exhibit A there? Because to be honest, it's a little _too_ on the nose. I did the same shit you did, after all, only you got lucky. I snuck out of the house, went looking for my bio mom, and got caught by Joker."

She winced at that. "Okay, you're right, that was way too far. Sorry, Jay. It's been an emotional morning. And – Bruce, I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have smacked you in the face with that."

Bruce had sat down across from her, and he reached out to take her hand. "Contrite is a very odd look on you, Selina. I … understand. And I apologize for shouting at you."

"Call Guinness, the man admits he was wrong," Selina said wanly. "The thing is, Bruce, as good as the security is here, you know this place is gonna be targeted eventually."

"That's why we're all here," Dick said staunchly, looking up from the eggs he was scrambling.

"Bats and Birds and a couple of special guests, we make a pretty good security detail," Dinah added.

"That'd be the perfect Christmas gift," Jay said with a bright cold grin. "Let that asshole show up and get curb-stomped by all of us, plus a couple metas." Kala caught his eye, and he saw the steel beneath her softness in that look. Oh yeah, if Joker showed up here, he'd leave in a body bag … assuming Kala left enough of him to bury.

"Why are you so sure Joker would come here?" Roy asked. Lian had been watching the conversation – Jay felt a little guilty for calling Joker an asshole in front of the kid – but as Alfred slid a plate of pancakes, eggs, and bacon in front of her, she tuned them all out.

Selina shrugged. "Joker's not stupid. If he's been by my place and seen that all my cats are gone, then he's going to figure out sooner or later that this is the only place I could've come to hide. Unfortunately, most of the rogues know my real name, and know I'm dating Bruce under my civilian guise. There are very few places I could take thirty-some cats, and this is the most secure of all of them."

"Okay, humor me for a minute," Roy said, leaning forward. "How does everyone in town _not_ know that Bruce is Batman? I mean, Batman and Catwoman are a major thing, and you _just happen_ to be dating Bruce Wayne, too?"

Selina smiled graciously at him, and Jay knew an epic bit of trolling was about to happen, but not even he was prepared to hear Selina say, "Well, mostly because everyone knows I'm not just sleeping with Batman and Bruce. You see, I'm what is technically known as a _slut_, Mr. Harper."

Jay couldn't stifle a bark of laughter, Roy's jaw dropped, Dinah started choking on her coffee and had to be slapped on the back by Helena, Dick burst out laughing, Donna looked scandalized, Kala hissed Selina's name in horrified tones, and Bruce just cradled his face in his palm despairingly. Lian didn't even look up; Jay and Kala both glanced at her, and he grinned at his girl when he realized they were the only two who checked on the kid. Hell, Lian had probably heard worse.

Babs seemed the least shocked. "I don't think that's entirely warranted, given this company," she pointed out. "None of us are exactly pure as the driven snow."

"Well, no, but I'm a big believer in not letting anyone shame me," Selina replied with a shrug. "The correct term is polyamorous, but more importantly, Roy, most people in town think I actually care about Batman and I'm just using Bruce for his bankroll. I've made a point of giving that impression to keep them off-track. The same way I drop hints about, oh, Nightwing wearing a wig and actually being blond. Or about Blur being an incognito Amazon. It's all misdirection." She smirked proudly at Kala over that one. Meanwhile it was Donna's turn to almost spit out the coffee she'd been sipping while she brewed up another pot.

"So that's what you told Cobblepot," Jay mused.

Kala perked up then, shaking her head in amused disbelief as Donna stared incredulously. "You told Penguin I'm a _Wonder_? And he bought it?" she asked. Thankfully she didn't look horrified by the assumption, considering the recently relaxed issues between she and Donna.

Selina held her hands up. "He knew you broke Ivy's control, he'd heard about you crashing the roof in about the kids, he already knew you had more than speed. I made it clear that Batman didn't tell me what you are – it's even true, your last name did that, I've met your parents – but he kept pushing. So I told Oswald to be careful, that I didn't know _what_ you'd do to protect someone you cared about, and that you carried yourself like an Amazon. I _had_ to throw him off, if he figures out you're a Super the black market will be flooded with kryptonite. Saying you're a rogue Amazon will account for most of the powers, and keep you mostly safe."

Kala nodded, thoughtful, and Jay figured she understood it. "Thank you, Selina. And – I'm sorry, Donna. I mean, there really are more of _you _than _us_. It would make it a little easier to hide, if you and Diana don't mind the rumor lingering. At least I've done _some_ training on Themyscira?" The look she shot the actual Amazon in the room was still a little amused, but also sheepish, shrugging apologetically.

Donna just shrugged. "It's not a problem – and Artemis would be delighted to claim you, anyway. I didn't know I was lending weight to the rumors when I showed up. We'd better let someone take a photo of us together, now, before anyone gets the bright idea to think we're really the same person."

While Kala tried not to wheeze at that, Jay just laughed. "Nah, the Blur plays a whole lot meaner than Troia. Although who knows, the conspiracy theories over who's who on Capespotting are hilarious. Didja know there's one guy who's actually _right_ about Bruce, and no one believes him?"

Babs growled at that. "Yes, and he's the bane of my existence. I have ten years' worth of documented travel by this one actor that could plausibly be in the same place as most out-of-town Batman sightings, just in case we ever need some misdirection of our own, and this delusional basement-dweller shows up with his horrible MS Paint diagrams and hijacks my entire thread. They're making _memes_ about him now. He doesn't even debate, he just goes on capslock rants with more terrible grainy photos."

Selina leaned forward, putting her elbows on the table. "Wait a minute, you're on Capespotting?"

"I have four accounts, with VPN so no one realizes they're the same. One's just for surveillance, the other three I use to insert information when I need it – one of those is a deputy moderator on the Gotham City forum," Babs said, with a hint of pride.

Jay couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Selina, you're on there too?"

She gave him a cheeky grin. "MeowMix92. I run the Catwoman fan page."

"You run your own fan page?" Dick exclaimed.

"Like you wouldn't," Selina shot back.

"I would, but one of the site founders has that locked down," he retorted. "I could do without the hearts and flowers photoshopped into every picture of me."

"Wait, wait," Donna said. "Is this that website that tracks heroes' appearances?"

"It has articles and polls and fanfiction, too," Jay said. "Don't ever read your own fanfic, Donna. You'll hate it."

"I have never seen the site, and now I _really_ don't want to," she replied.

Kala, meanwhile, was looking at Dick. "How many of you actually have accounts on Capespotting?"

Jay, who'd made an account to get alerts about himself, raised his hand. So did Selina, obviously, and Babs, and Dick. Kala didn't, neither did Donna or Helena, but Dinah raised hers, so did Tim, and then so did Roy.

The big shock was Bruce, however, and they _all_ stared at him. "Seriously?" Selina asked, laughing.

Bruce just looked at Babs. "I didn't realize that _you_ were Dozier359. How did you choose your username?"

"Threw a dart at a telephone book for a name, and hit a calculator without looking for the number," she replied automatically, then her eyes widened. "Wait – no. No, no, no. Bruce, you have _got_ to be kidding me!"

"What?" Jay asked, still reeling from the idea that Bruce was even on the site. It made sense to monitor it, but Babs had that handled. Well, Bruce never minded double-checking someone's work. Still, he'd actually created an account?

"_You're_ BruceWayneIsBatman?!" Babs exclaimed. "Somehow in between fighting crime and hovering over all of us like a broody hen, you have time to make those awful MS Paint diagrams and post them on the site? With all the misspellings and the grammar of a slightly deranged middle-schooler?!"

He nodded solemnly. "I have a software program for the wording, so it's consistent."

"You have a software program to make you sound like an idiot," Babs said, leaning back in her chair with disbelieving eyes.

Jay couldn't believe it either. The _only_ person on Capespotting who'd gotten someone's secret identity right, and Jay had freaked out at first when he saw the username. One glance at the account's posts, however – with repeated warnings from the mods that the site was not the place to discuss chemtrails or Flat Earth theory – and he'd dismissed it the pet project of a whacked-out conspiracy theorist.

Those diagrams Babs was ranting about, too, they were so painfully childish. Low-quality photos of both Bruce Wayne and Batman, with wavering neon lines drawn to emphasize the shape of a chin or the line of a shoulder, and always in such bad lighting or different angles as to make it plain that the person posting was hallucinating any resemblance. The Capespotting community as a whole treated that account like a dementia-addled uncle at a family reunion. Jay remembered the memes, too. Thanks to a post that was now two years old, comparing photos of Bruce and Batman shot from the back, people on the site were _still_ saying, 'Do the butts match?' to indicate that they thought a particular statement was way out of left field.

And all along, that had been _Bruce himself_. The man who claimed to have no sense of humor, had been playing an elaborate joke _the whole time_.

Kala was staring at him, too, and finally said, "Babs, I think you have to give up the Original Troll title. This is … this is way over the top."

"Agreed. This beats anything I've ever done," Babs said. "Good God, Bruce. I wrote a _nine hundred word post_ debunking your theory, and your comeback was to call me a Russian bot!"

Bruce only shrugged. "It's misdirection. Capespotting has a high chance of uncovering one of our identities, since it has so much unfiltered information and so many users. We know that many of our rogues follow it. Now, no one will ever take the suggestion that I might be Batman seriously."

"You really are a genius," Selina said admiringly. "A _twisted_ genius, but a genius nonetheless. I don't know whether to be awed or terrified."

"Thank you," Bruce said.

She smirked at him, and added, "Also, I want to state for the record that you follow my fan page and post things like, 'Catwoman can rob me any time'. Very smooth, sir."

"This from the woman whose username is _Meow Mix_?" Babs said dryly.

Throughout the conversation, Alfred had been bringing in everyone's breakfast. Dick and Donna had just finally sat down before the revelation of Bruce's trolling, and now Alfred refilled coffee for them all. He filled the last cup, looked at them all, and allowed himself a smile. "He does blend in with most of your male fans, Miss Selina, except in being less pointed in his remarks."

"Oh come _on_," Babs said. "You, too?"

Alfred actually grinned. "Haymans1643, after my favorite gin. I tend to correct Master Bruce's spelling."

_All_ of them laughed at that, and it was welcome, relieved laughter.

…

Joker had left someone on surveillance, and the news that Batman had found his message and removed it wasn't entirely welcome. Oh, Batsy would tell his little kitty about it, but he was missing out on the visceral impact of Selina seeing one of her darlings so cruelly displayed.

He vented his displeasure on the messenger, and after the body had been carted out, Joker sat brooding and tossing a knife from hand to hand.

_One_ of them should have come out by now. Either the veggie, the zombie, or the cat. _Someone_ should've taken the bait. He had knives and pliers and a reciprocating saw and cameras and microphones ready, plus a powerful transmitter to swamp out the local TV channel's signal so he could broadcast his own little game show. Kids still played that gruesome game 'hangman', and he planned to do it in reverse, removing a finger or a toe or a tooth for each wrong answer.

Of course, he wouldn't be asking his co-hosts to guess a _word_. Nothing so simple as that, even if the word was 'syzygy' or 'quire' or 'ulotrichous'. The only question Joker planned to ask was, 'Where is Harley Quinn?' And all of their answers would probably be wrong. Even if they were right, he planned to keep asking until Harley showed up to stop it, or the Bat cut off the broadcast.

He figured Harley would just change the channel, if he got hold of Dead Hood, but that one was its own victory. Despite the recent softening of his murderous principles – what a shame, to see a man's edge blunted by the feminine influence in his life – Zombie-Bird was still widely feared in Gotham. Watching him taken apart on live television by the same person who'd killed him the first time would be exactly the ratings boost Joker needed. Besides, chopping off bits of him might hasten another meeting with the new girl, whom Joker was _dying_ to investigate. Preferably with scalpels. He had some theories about that one, and he'd just love to find out how right he was.

Poison Ivy or Catwoman, now, Harley would come running to save her friends from torture. And then Joker could make her _watch_ them die for her sins, before meting out her own punishment. He'd been studying a lot of esoteric subjects lately, and his plans for his wayward girl were carefully crafted.

Either way, it would be a win – _if_ they came to him. And so far, no one had.

Joker sighed, and caught the knife, driving it into the arm of his chair. He'd just have to up the ante a little more, that was all. Harley couldn't hide forever.

…

Still reeling from the revelation that Uncle Bruce was on Capespotting, Kala headed upstairs with Jay. She'd sent most of her gifts ahead to the Manor, so they could be opened Christmas Day, just as most of the family's gifts had been sent to the Kent farmhouse. She'd kept Jay's aside, however, wanting to give them to him in person, and he had done the same for her.

On their way up, however, they got sidetracked by tiny little Norway, sitting at the foot of the Christmas tree and whining as she stared into its branches. "Aww, sweetheart, what's the matter?" Kala asked.

"If she answers you, I'm gone," Jay laughed.

Norway looked over her shoulder at them, gave a strident mew, and then stared back at the tree. Kala walked toward it, wondering at first if there was a mouse or a squirrel hiding somewhere in it. Her own family had accidentally brought a squirrel inside once…

The moment she approached, she heard a loud '_waow'_ from somewhere high in the branches. "Oh no," Kala said, looking up, and finally picked out the terrified black and white face peering out at them. From twenty-five feet up. "You poor thing, how did you get up there? Are you stuck?"

Her answer was another miserable-sounding cry, and Kala sighed, letting herself float up toward the cat. "Calm down, I'll get you out," she soothed. Drawing level with the branch, she saw a large tuxedo cat clinging to the bark, frightened jade green eyes peering out at her. "Poor thing. It's okay."

When she reached toward the cat, though, it gave a growling screech, hunkering down to the branch and flattening its ears. Kala drew her hand back, startled, and the cat made a mumbling meow, licking its nose fearfully. "I'm trying to help you!"

"Jesus fuck, is that cat possessed?" Jay asked below her.

Selina had followed them, probably hearing the cat, and called up, "That's Freyja, also known as Fraidy, for obvious reasons. She won't actually bite or scratch you, Kala, she just talks a big game."

"I hope not. I don't want her breaking her teeth," Kala said, and reached for the cat again. Freyja whined, growled, hissed, and finally gave a damp-sounding squeak when Kala grabbed her scruff and pulled her out, but true to Selina's word, she never actually tried to attack. Instead she huddled close and buried her face in Kala's shirt as they floated back down to the ground. "Aww, you poor sad thing," Kala murmured, pressing her cheek close comfortingly as they landed. "That was quite a height for a scaredy-cat."

Selina held her hands out for the cat, explaining, "She's the most timid cat I've ever met. Bolt is shy, but she'll stand up to the others. Fraidy there got her ass kicked by a six-month-old kitten, and she weighs about eighteen pounds or so."

Norway climbed Selina's clothes, meowing, and Freyja lifted her head up as Kala handed her over. The tiny black cat sniffed noses with the much larger black and white, and then purred, grooming Freyja's face. "They're so sweet," Kala said.

Selina shrugged the shoulder that didn't have a cat balancing on it. "Norway is the only one who can get close to Freyja. I don't know if it's a Norse theme thing, or if Norway's just the most persistently social cat in town. Whenever Norway's not with her sisters, she's with Fraidy. They're pretty closely bonded."

"Which explains why tiny-whiny there was yelling for someone to rescue the big scaredy-cat," Jay said. "Do you have any normal cats, Selina, or are they all weird?"

"There's no such thing as a normal cat," Selina said, still petting Freyja, who had started purring. "Some of them are weirder than others, though. All of them are characters."

Jay nodded, and a silence fell among them, Selina's eyes going cold. Kala couldn't help thinking of the cat Joker had found dead and tacked up to Selina's door as a message; her own icy wrath woke in answer to that, and Selina and Jay must've both been thinking of it, too.

"You should know," Jay said quietly. "If I cross paths with Joker again, he's not walking away."

Selina tipped her head sideways, curious. "That's not what you said at Thanksgiving."

Jay shrugged. "I said I wouldn't go kill him in the hospital, mostly because everyone would know it was me. I don't need that kinda heat. And besides, shooting an unarmed comatose patient handcuffed to a hospital bed isn't exactly my style. I'm still not _looking_ for him to kill him. But if he shows up in my sights? He's crossed too many lines, lately. He needs to be put down before he gets hold of one of us, or Harley."

Shivering, Selina said, "Harley will be gone, tomorrow morning. After that we don't have to worry about her. Jokes has never been one to leave Gotham if he can help it, and Pam's smart enough not to leave tracks. If she goes and holes up on a tropical island somewhere like I think she will, and he _does_ find them, well, Nature is a mother, right? Pam will feed him to the Green and never blink doing it."

Shaking his head, Jay said, "You've got funny taste in friends, Selina."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "So do you, Mr. Hood. So do you. Speaking of your friends – Kala, thank you for getting the big chicken here out of the tree."

"You're welcome. For these guys, it's never a problem." Kala reached out and scratched Norway's head lightly. "I've always been a sucker for animals in trouble. It runs in the family."

"That explains a lot," Selina said archly, glancing at Jay, and then strolled out with her cats, leaving the pair of them to continue upstairs.

Once they closed the door, Kala went to her bag and took out three wrapped parcels. "I hope you like what I got you," she said, looking up at Jay.

He grinned, opening his dresser and taking out four boxes. "I liked the one I got this morning well enough. Hell, I hope you like yours."

She smirked a little, and teased, her voice husky, "For the record, I would no problems with a little more of you indulging me a little more like that, too. I could do with some spoiling right now. Even if you wrapped that particular present in front of me. I'm a sucker for surprises, too, but sometimes it's good to know just how decadent the treat is."

"Look at you, being filthy," Jay laughed, his pale blue eyes alight. "Glad you appreciated the ribbed-for-her-pleasure wrapping. Here, open this one first."

Kala rolled her eyes and caught the box he tossed her way. "Neanderthal. Why do I bother?" she muttered, sitting on the edge of his bed and tearing into the wrapping.

"You're the only person I know who pronounces that correctly, by the way," Jay said, watching her avidly.

"Journalist parents. Gotta get your sources correct," Kala replied. The last of the wrapping gave way, revealing a white box with a fancy-script name she didn't recognize. Opening the wrapping let the scent of fine chocolate waft up to her nose.

Jay hadn't gotten her any old assortment of chocolates, however. Neatly packaged inside was a chocolate _record_, with 'KLK's Greatest Hits' on the label. There was also a chocolate cassette tape that read, 'Red & Black Mix'. Kala laughed in sheer delight, beaming at him. "That is _awesome_! I didn't even know they made chocolates like this!"

"There's a couple chocolatiers who do, and this lady makes records that will actually play," Jay told her. "Problem with that is they have to get the rights to whatever music you wanna use, and they don't have any of your songs licensed. So I had to buy the rights, too."

That had her staring at him in disbelief. He had done _what_? "Jay, you didn't have to do that," Kala fretted, honestly floored. Getting the rights to reproduce even one song wouldn't have been cheap.

He only smiled. "It's worth it. If you put that on a turntable, you can get about ten plays out of it before the needles wears out the grooves. I went for your first single, _Whisper_. Obviously the cassette doesn't play, it's just decorative."

"I had no idea that was possible. You, sir, are brilliant," Kala told him, still smiling. She looked at his three gifts, and chose one to hand him.

Jay tore into it, although he surely guessed from the shape and weight that it was a book. He still didn't know _exactly_ what it was until he exposed the cover and read the title. "_Bleak House_? Oh damn, this is the first edition cover, too! Hell yeah, K, I love this one – and I don't have a first of it! It's got the plates and the chapbook covers and everything!"

The praise over that one warmed her to her toes. Getting him books didn't seem to be a worrisome gift until one had to consider which exact volumes to pick out; she'd been looking for over a month on and off, hemming and hawing over which ones, which topics, which eras, would suit. Considering the bookcase and the shelf in the closet at the apartment when he wasn't looking had helped, too. Dickens had seemed to be logical leap from his favorites. "I know. I enlisted Alfred for a location on that one," Kala said with a relieved smile. Watching him geek out was wonderful. "I owe him a proper London order of fish and chips, by the way. I'm the only person who can fly it back fast enough to still be hot. I want to work in a traditional tea at some point, too."

"Don't welsh on it, or he'll get you," Jay laughed. He looked at her three remaining gifts, one roughly square, two flat, and handed her one of the flat ones. "You'll notice a theme."

She raised an eyebrow, and opened the package to find a beautifully-framed art print of a microphone, imprinted on a dictionary page. She wouldn't tell him, but she had been collecting several of the type already, with her favorite birds in fanciful accessories and famous fantasy characters. It would be a perfect addition to the collection in the living room space. "Ohhh, I _love_ these! It's perfect, Robin," she exclaimed, tracing a finger down the frame. "Really, I love it."

"Glad you like it," Jay said, smiling.

"I am seeing the theme, though, and it's honestly wonderful. You'd be surprised how many people _don't_ buy me music-related stuff," Kala told him. "Not even my parents. I think, with them, it's because Mom's still mad about the karaoke machine my father bought me when I was seven." Kala quirked her brow up humorously.

"Well, turns out meerkats are illegal and pets are a horrible Christmas present anyway, so…" Jay teased.

Deciding to really mess with him, she gave him a sigh and an exaggerated pout. "If you were determined to gift me an animal, you could've just borrowed my bat from the zoo for a while. There would have been no complaints from me; I would have found a way to take Josephine on tour for a while. She could have been our mascot; she'd be perfect. We'd have found her some awesome hand-crafted batty underwear for the tour bus, I could have easily gotten her the fresh tropical fruit she needs, and I would have taken her home after some quality time. I would have worked it out. I'm pretty well-versed on the upkeep of bats these days, I think." Her eyes shined with utter deviltry at that.

"Nah, I'm leaving that for Dickie-Bird," Jay laughed. "And you're a specialist in the Hood variety of bats; most of the rest couldn't handle the same conditions I thrive in."

She chuckled at him, choosing the next gift. She had really taken a chance on this gift; hopefully his reaction would be the one she hoped for when she had seen it in the bookshop she followed Jase into a few weeks ago. It had been the one thing she'd locked onto, but second-guessed, only to go back for it a few days later. She'd known it was meant to be his. Moment of truth. Taking a deep breath, Kala pushed his other present toward him. "Go on, open this one. I hope you like it."

"Fine, pushy," Jay chuckled … but once he pulled the wrapping off, he paused at looked at her, delight warming his gaze. "_Oliver Twist_, huh? And it's a first edition, too – I never thought I'd get my hands on one of these. How the hell did you find it?"

"Little bookseller in Paris," Kala admitted with a sigh of relief, watching his expression. "Do you like it? I wasn't sure…"

"It's _perfect_," Jay assured her, leaning forward to plant a kiss on her lips. "Just like you. Hey, wait, did you pick this one out 'cause I'm always asking for more?"

Kala smiled softly, knowing the deflection for what it was. How could she not love him? "Not for that. The story… It seemed appropriate for you, Jay."

Jay kissed her again, and one more time. "Very few people know to buy me classic lit, K, so we're even. Although, your next gift probably a little less impressive than the first two. I shoulda swapped them around." He handed it to her with a shy grin.

"Oh, stop, you bought me a gift. That's what counts. And you got me more gifts than I got you," she scolded gently, tearing the paper.

"Nah, the lingerie from last night – well, this morning – counts," Jay laughed back.

Kala lifted out a square white box, and opened that to reveal a coffee mug. At first glance, it looked like an ordinary pale blue mug, but when she looked closer, the side had a legend in bold script: 'I sing mezzo, what's your superpower?'

That made her burst into happy laughter, and kiss him. "Didn't you just mock me last night for being a vocal geek? How'd you even find out my range?"

"Hey, I still don't know half those words. I saw those mugs for alto and bass, so I googled what your range is. I found it on a site called Diva Devotee. They have a whole breakdown – with more jargon I've never heard before – and clips of you singing a whole bunch of notes from various songs." Jay shrugged, looking thoroughly self-satisfied. "Had to get the mug custom-made, though. No one had it specifically mezzo-soprano, and the guy I bought it from said it'd make more sense to list it as mezzo than try to squeeze the whole thing on there."

The amount of research he had put into something so simple as a coffee mug had her staring at him in awe. That and the thought of having a write-up so in-depth on something called Diva Devotee was just a little terrifying. "Wow, you did your homework. Color me ever more impressed, Red. He's right, half the time I just tell singers I'm a mezzo, and they know what I mean. And that website? That sounds a little scary," Kala said with a laugh.

"It looks like they know what they're talking about," he replied with a shrug. "One more each, then – your last one doesn't fit the theme."

"Neither does mine," Kala said, and handed him the last box. This one had been a risk, and she bit her lip as he opened it. Jay slowed down, tilting his head curiously as he lifted a small round object from the box. Nervous, she couldn't help giving him all the details. "You said you wanted to be an astronaut as a kid. I figured, this will do until we can work out how to get you there. It's based on the most detailed images NASA has, and it runs on solar power and magnets so it rotates without any obvious power source. There were a couple options for the base, but you know I had to get the crystal one."

Jay held the model of the moon in the palm of his hand – a place he'd watched film of astronauts exploring, and one Kala had actually _been_ – and the look in his ice-blue eyes was awe. "K … you're fucking _amazing_. This is so fuckin' cool. I was _so_ hung up on space travel as a kid. And now I've got a girlfriend who literally gave me the moon."

"Don't forget, said girlfriend is half alien. That's gotta fit in with your spaceman dreams, too," Kala said, gently playful.

"Yeah, I'm no Captain Kirk, but I'm thrilled with my space babe," Jay laughed, and leaned in to kiss her. "Okay, open your last one, let's be nerds together."

He pushed the last box toward her, looking just as nervous as she was. "It's mostly a me thing, but it's got significance. And I figured you'd like it."

"Of course I'll like it," Kala said, tearing into the paper. A paper box was under it, and when she took off the lid, she saw a hardbound copy of _Far From the Madding Crowd_. Kala smiled slowly, remembering when she'd caught him reading it. "We were both thinking about that night in the library, huh? I remembered you saying you wanted to be an astronaut; you remembered me being interested in the book you were reading. I never did get around to pulling it off the shelf."

"Well, now you have your very own copy," Jay said. "That night was … something to remember. I think we both saw each other more clearly, after that conversation. Deserves a marker, y'know?"

"Yeah, I know," she told him.

He grinned then. "Besides, I gotta give you props. You _listen_, K. I … don't always feel like people really see me, or notice what I'm into. You always do."

"Thank you for letting me see you," Kala told him, her tone serious.

And then, when the moment was almost too intimate, Jay smirked at her and asked, "So, you like your Christmas presents?"

Kala's beaming smile said it all. He had taken her totally by surprise with his choices and she had been delighted with them all, even before that last echo of their early days. "I love them, Jay. You do good work."

"Hell yeah, so do you," Jay said, looking happier than Kala had ever seen him while conscious.

Despite all the hectic travel, extended family tripping over one another, the absence of her best friend still a hole in her heart, and the very real threat hovering over Gotham, it had been one of the best Christmases Kala could remember. She let herself bask in it, willing all the rest of the madness to hold off for a while. Carefully moving the presents aside, Kala slid into Jay's lap and rested her forehead against his, whispering, "Merry Christmas, Jay."

His arms around her waist were all the anchor she needed. "Merry Christmas, Kala," he told her, kissing the corner of her smile.

This, right here, was all the peace and contentment she craved.

…

The rhythm of life in the Manor was settling back into normal, in the lull week between Christmas and New Year's, and Dick was glad of it. He was going to miss having everyone around the house, though. The guests were headed home – Donna would be leaving tomorrow, Roy and Lian were staying two days more so they could go to the big Wayne charity gala. Babs and Dinah had gone back to the Clock Tower, and Helena had gone with them for a little extra security. Dick found himself a little amused by that; like himself, Helena had her own apartment, but she stayed with Babs and Dinah as often as he stayed at the Manor.

Of course, he got to keep Kala for another week and a half. Or he would, if she and Jay would ever come out of Jay's room. Dick walked up that hall in the middle of the afternoon, when everyone else was asleep, just to see if the two were still barricaded in. He found the cat Norway sitting patiently in front of Jay's door, and when Dick approached, she mewed at him and stood up on her hind legs, patting the door knob.

That was too damn cute to resist, so he loided the lock with his license and let her in – as Alfred and Selina both had, in previous days – then went on his way. At least it was quiet, the lovebirds were actually getting some sleep after finally exchanging their gifts.

He had half a mind to get on Capespotting and go troll Babs a little. Maybe start a public discussion about how Black Canary still rocked those fishnet stockings, and see if he could flush out Dinah herself in the middle of it. Commenting that Black Canary could put him in handcuffs if she wanted ought to get them both laughing.

Come to think of it, he didn't have a date to the gala. He'd asked Helena, but she'd turned him down gently. Dick chuckled a little, remembering her wry look as she'd told him, "I don't want my boss and your ex to think we're dating again." Given that they'd been in bed at the time, it _was_ a fairly laughable concern.

He'd ask Donna, but she was planning to leave just before the event. Maybe he would yank Babs' chain a little, and ask Dinah.

Dick got himself settled, planning to sleep until shortly after dark and then get up for rounds. The sun went down early, this time of year. He pulled up a soothing video on his phone and drifted off to sleep.

And was awakened, what felt like no time later, by his phone and his comm both buzzing. Groaning, Dick answered the comm first. "This is Wing."

"Rise and shine, Nightwing, we've got a major fire in progress at Brentwood Academy," Babs' digitized voice said. "Given the spread and involvement, we're definitely looking at arson."

"Oh, merry Christmas to us," Dick grumbled. "I hate fires, O, I really do."

"I know. Let me raise the rest – if you don't see Hood in the hall, bang on his door for me," she told him.

"Will do. Let Arsenal and Troia sleep, okay? If this is only a fire, we've got enough personnel for now," Dick told her. That was more her call and Bruce's than his own, but Babs would take it as a suggestion, where Bruce would just give him a stony look. He was still mentally gearing up for this one.

By the time Dick got dressed and headed out, Kala and Jay were already in the hallway, Kala setting Norway down with a last scratch on the fluffy cat's head. "How the fuck does she keep getting in there?" Jay exclaimed, and Dick stifled a laugh, deciding not to tell Jay he'd let her in.

The updates over the comm sounded grim. Dick and Tim both hopped in the Batplane with Bruce. Jay and Kala also flew – which, Dick noticed that Jay had been flying with her a _lot_ lately. So much for all his protests about what a terrifying pilot she was. Ironically, that only made Dick want to go flying more. If he could get her to do one of those free-falls she'd mentioned over the summer, that'd be _amazing_, almost like flying himself.

They hovered several blocks away, Bruce peering intently at the billowing smoke. Dick leaned forward in his seat, trying to see what his mentor saw. First he had to make himself process this, the school he had attended – Jay and Tim too – blazing away, all kinds of memories going up in smoke. It made him angry, and he had to fight past that.

Batman, of course, saw it differently. "The fire pattern is unnatural," he said into the comm.

Kala's voice spoke in Dick's ear. "You're right, it looks … not just like arson, like there were multiple points. I'm going higher for an aerial view."

"Jesus fuck," Jay muttered, and Dick smiled. _Only you could fall in love with a flyer and freak out about heights,_ he thought, a welcome trace of amusement.

And then they heard Kala gasp over the comm. "Uh-oh. Be careful, everyone. If I'm seeing this right … the parts that are burning spell out 'J plus H'."

"It's Joker. Cover the firefighters – be wary, Joker has been known to disguise himself as a first responder," Bruce said gruffly, and swooped in. Dick's heart kicked up a notch, and he had to throttle down another surge of anger. Joker was making things _personal_, whether he knew it or not. The sense of urgency – always a factor, even in a normal fire – just got more intense.

The main reason they'd taken the Batplane instead of ground transportation was that it carried a load of expanding fire-suppressant foam. Two passes took care of most of it, and Bruce landed the plane on a nearby rooftop. Dick and Tim hopped out, automatically fanning out to monitor the firefighters and police on the scene. If Joker had done this – and the initials were a solid indication, few people would try to fake that – he was likely nearby.

"I don't see him," Jay growled over the comm.

"I don't hear him, either," Kala added, sounding just as angry.

"He's here somewhere," Bruce said grimly. "Hood, watch your back."

"I'm on that, Batman," Kala said, and Dick heard a steely note in her voice. Joker would have one hell of a time getting past _her_. She might be the newest member of the team, but Kala was damn useful, especially in situations like this.

They were all in motion, trying to spot Joker and keep watch over the firefighters tamping out the last vestiges of the blaze, when a whistling noise caught Dick's attention. He whirled around, and saw the roof on which they'd parked the Batplane suddenly light up with bright white fire.

"Sonofa_bitch_!" Jay spat, and then he was standing next to Dick, staggering a little from an awkward landing. "K, _don't_, keep away from the plane!"

"I think I saw the angle of that RPG," Kala said over their comms, and none of them could see her in the dark, smoky sky.

"Blur, _fall in_," Bruce demanded.

"That vile little cockroach was close enough to fire on you," she said, still not landing. "He's somewhere nearby…"

"K, get your sweet ass down here or I swear to God I'll bench you," Jay thundered into his comm. "The last time you crossed him didn't go so well. _Fall in_, for fuck's sake!"

"If I could just … oh, _shit_! Look west!"

Jay looked like he was about to explode in even more profanity, but Kala landed beside him and Dick a second later, pointing to the western sky … where another fireball lit up the horizon, miles away.

Oracle was in their ears, asking about the new fire and getting an approximate location from Tim, and Bruce was summoning the Batmobile remotely. Dick looked back at the Batplane; probably salvageable, it was very well armored, but a direct strike from a rocket-propelled grenade loaded with something like thermite was doing a whole lot of damage.

"Hood, Blur," Bruce began, and gritted his teeth. What he was about to say clearly didn't sit well with him. "You're the fastest. Observe and report, do _not_ engage."

"On it," she said, grabbing Jay, and Dick heard his strangled curse as the pair of them seemed to disappear.

"You really think she'll listen?" he asked Bruce, converging with him and Tim.

"She did come down when Hood ordered her to," Bruce said.

Dick frowned. Kala had come in when she'd seen the second fire. He was ready to call Donna and do some flying of his own, right about now, but the _last_ thing he wanted to expose Donna to was the Clown himself.

In his brief hesitation, Kala had arrived at the new scene and started reporting. "It's a warehouse, and the burn pattern is different. This is burning from the outside in, like an accelerant was placed around the perimeter. No one's inside, and it doesn't seem to have a message."

"Hold position, we're on the way," Bruce replied.

Dick didn't quite dare to sigh in relief. _Something _was up tonight.

…

Selina had woken up when Bruce left the bed beside her; no matter how angry he was, or how injured, the man never turned down a chance to hold and be held for a little while. And as long as her arms were around him, she knew he was safe – he must've felt the same about her. He'd kissed her shoulder as he left, without explanation.

Remembering the previous evening, Selina didn't ask him to be careful. She just curled up around his pillow, breathing the scent of his cologne, and eventually Miss Kitty came to sit on her hip. "So you forgive me?" Selina murmured, and rubbed her ears.

After a while, the cat purred, and Selina began to doze off.

She woke again when her phone rang. It was Pam's number, and even as she answered, Selina felt her heart grow cold with fear. "What happened?" she asked, praying it wasn't what she guessed.

In the dark, Miss Kitty's eyes shone golden, and in her ear cool, calm, collected Poison Ivy sounded on the verge of a breakdown. "She's _gone_. I don't care anymore, Selina, get your Bat out there after her – at least if he has her he'll _try_ to keep Joker from killing her."

Selina sat up, her heart racing. "How long has she been gone? Do you have any idea what she's up to?" They both knew confinement grated on Harley; it wouldn't be out of the question for her to sneak out to a corner store for an energy drink and a change of scenery. Maybe, _maybe_ she was okay.

Pam laughed, a ragged miserable sound. "Not more than an hour, and something _stupid_, of course. She left a note on the door that says, 'If I'm not back by midnight, take care of the boys for me.' We're leaving at _four_!"

"She's going after _Joker_," Selina groaned. "Oh, _no_."

"Of course she is. It's those harlequin patterns around the city, she can't leave without one last 'fuck you' to him and a thumb's-up to her imitators. Goddess help me, Harley _is_ the dumbest genius we know, Selina. She just _had_ to go make a statement." Pam was probably pacing, Selina could hear the hyenas whining miserably in the background.

"She's also the luckiest person we know. Think of all the stuff she's gotten away with. I'll call in some help anyway," Selina told her.

Another bitter laugh. "Thank you. I can't believe she pulled this when we're so _close_. If she _does_ make it back, I'm going to tranq her comatose and load her in a kennel like these damn hyenas."

"Pam, honey, if I get hold of her first, I'll help you," Selina promised.

And then paused, remembering why she was staying in these nights. She still hadn't seen the cat that Joker had nailed to her door, but in her mind's eye it was black, like so many of her favorites. Or striped like shy little Bolt, or patchwork calico like sly Precious, or white like timid Mouser. Her imagination had painted each of her darlings into that grisly scene, and it made Selina swing wildly between rage and terror.

She wanted to kill Joker, of course. A gun would do it; snapping her whip around his neck and hanging him would suffice, too, but it was slow enough to allow interference.

At the same time, she knew her own wrath for a weakness Joker could exploit. And if he caught her … she'd seen Harley's scars. That was just Joker being _playful_. If he really meant to kill someone who had offended him, it would be much, _much_ worse.

Yet she would feel like a coward, staying safe in Wayne Manor while Harley was out there running around, making a target of herself.

Pam solved it for her. "No, you stay there. Just send up a Bat-signal or hang your bra out the window, however you summon him. I don't want _you_ getting caught, too."

Selina laughed despairingly, hearing the frantic edge in her own voice. "God, Pam, I've got higher tech ways of reaching him. I just … I feel so useless, sitting here doing nothing. Like all I'm good for is sending out the Bat."

"You've done more for Harley than anyone could expect. Stay there, stay safe. I've _got_ to go after her. I don't want you in the middle of it, too," Pam insisted.

"_Please_ be careful," Selina told her, and they both hung up.

Selina gave a deep sigh, and called Oracle, knowing that was the fastest way to reach Bruce. "Hey, O, I need you to call the team," she said, as soon as Babs answered. "Harley's out there somewhere, doing something insane."

"Do you know where she is?" Babs asked levelly, without judgment.

"Not precisely. But I'm pretty sure she started out somewhere within walking distance of this address," Selina told her, and gave the location of the cafe.

Even if Batman ended up catching Ivy, too, that was better than Harley getting killed.


	33. A Storm Is Coming Soon

Sebast had been in Ponce just long enough to start missing Metropolis, sleet and all. Mateo and Daniela's wedding had been lovely; she was Sebast's cousin on his mother's side, and they always kept in touch on social media. She liked to tease him about being 'my cousin, the big rock star', but Daniela was one of the few who actually _listened_ when he said he wasn't dating Kala.

Of course, she still _liked_ Kala, and she'd been disappointed not to see her this Christmas. Sebast winced, remembering the whole conversation three days before the wedding about how he'd walked out of the band and how he and Kala were barely speaking. Daniela had been getting her nails done at the time, and she'd messed up her polish throwing a box of tissues at him. "You better make it right, Sebastiáno. You don't treat your friends like that."

"We're making it right, Daniela, and I'm not the only one who screwed it up, by the way," he'd told her. Luckily he'd been able to turn the conversation to Mikey, who _still_ didn't have a girlfriend, and who was complaining loudly about the internet connection speed because he was missing a raid in one of his online games. Those two things might be related, Sebast thought – maybe Mikey's expectations were too high. Not like a dark elf chick in sexy armor was going to show up at his door any time soon.

A bunch of the guys had gone down to the beach last night to drink and talk, and Sebast had brought an acoustic guitar to noodle around on. Even Diego, his third cousin who vehemently disapproved of 'the gays', tended to shut up with a reminder of Sebast's talent, and playing a few songs was an easy way to avoid the problems from six years ago. _That_ had been an ugly one, with Sebast throwing the first punch – but Kala had been there, and she'd finished it, chasing Diego into the surf. The last Sebast had heard, people were still occasionally giving him shit about it, ending conversations by saying, 'Look out, the white girl can hit!'

Diego wasn't starting any of that crap last night. Both of the Luises were doing it for him. Luis Alejandro – who actually wasn't a relative, but his mom was a close friend of Tía Gloria and he'd grown up close as a cousin – had been the first one to ask, "Hey, Sebastiáno, if you're not with your girlfriend's band anymore, why not go solo?"

He'd sighed heavily, resisting the urge to take the bait. Why was he not surprised they were having this discussion again? "One, it's _our_ band, not her band. Her initials just look better in graphics. Two, she's not my girlfriend and all of you already know that." It had irritated him even then to say it; Kala _could_ have been his girlfriend, maybe _should_ have been his girlfriend, but that was over, and everyone who failed to recognize it just pissed him off.

Luis Miguel – who was technically Sebast's first cousin once removed, but no one cared since they were close to the same age – had scoffed. "All right, fine, she's your un-girlfriend. Why _don't_ you go solo? You've got talent, and you've got fans. You could do it."

Honestly, Sebast had never considered it. In high school, he'd set his sights on acting, but it was damn hard to make a living that way. Metropolis was better than a lot of places, and still it was far from easy. Endless cattle calls and rejections, scrabbling for any part he could get, trying to be noticed and break into stardom. Shifting his focus to music alongside Kala had given him a chance to perform when they were touring, and even if the music industry was just as hard to break into, at least he got to do what he loved while they were building their brand. And they _had_ been discovered, gotten a contract, and hit the charts, all in relatively short time. It hadn't been his dream to start with, but seeing his name in lights was everything he'd wanted as a kid.

But it was always _their_ band, _their_ music, _their_ success. Kala had sweet-talked him into a duet, back when she was singing with Fungiferous Flora, and from that moment on they'd pursued this dream _together_. She hadn't had to wheedle much, and honestly, he always gave her anything she asked for.

He'd even ended up giving her the one thing she never asked for, because if she'd asked for that it would've broken their friendship, and oh look, him having feelings for her and denying them had broken them up anyway.

Kala always gave him anything he asked for, too. If he'd wanted to sing solo, she would've helped make it happen. But he'd never wanted to.

Blinking, Sebast had told the guys, "I'm already in breach of contract, if I try to sign with anyone else they'll sue the shit outta me."

Luis Alejandro had shrugged. "Well, tell 'em you'll finish your contract with a solo album. Latin rock is hot right now. You could be the Goth Ricky Martin."

Jesús, what a stereotype. "I'd rather be the Goth Enrique Iglesias," Sebast had shot back, but in truth it was something to think about.

He'd already talked to Jenna, though, and he was going to return to KLK's tour the third week of January. At least, if they couldn't work together anymore, he had an option. It would be weird, trying to do this on his own, but if all else failed, lots of singers crossed into acting eventually.

If he did that, he would miss Kala's voice, the way it matched his own … but that was thinking too far ahead. He was going to do his best to _fix_ this, repair the friendship that had been between them first, and get back their working partnership too. Kala meant so much to him, he couldn't let jealousy and missed chances ruin everything.

Now it was the day after Christmas – well, the night after the day after Christmas – and everyone was still lying around, replete with food. The baby shower for Alondra was at the end of the week, and Sebast wouldn't be going to it except they were doing a whole roast pig and he never turned down food. Mikey claimed to be craving lechón asado, and Tía Camila whom they were staying with already said she wasn't cooking that day. So Sebast and Mikey had gone out shopping the day after Christmas for baby shower gifts.

At least they had their mother's wisdom, and bought practical stuff. "She'll have more onesies than the baby will ever be able to wear before he grows out of them. Give Alondra something for _her_," Zynthiana had advised. Sebast was giving her an all-day spa gift card and an ultra-comfy pajama set; Mikey had bought a robot vacuum and a coffee mug. They'd dropped some serious money, even with after-Christmas sales, but Alondra was having the first grandson on the Vélez side, so _everyone_ was going all-out.

Meanwhile Sebast had missed another baby shower: Elise's. And he might end up missing the birth of her twins. Lois and Jason and Elise had all made it clear that he was still part of the family, still welcome, but it'd be awkward if he didn't patch things up with Kala first. God, he had so much work to do; he missed her so much.

All this would've been better with Kala here. She was good at all the girly stuff, but she didn't mind sneaking off to go eat seafood or just sit on the rocks listening to the surf and drinking pitorro – moonshine, basically, since Kala hated beer. Knowing what he knew now, no wonder she had almost never shown the after-effects. Kala, she was the best of both worlds, he could sit with her by a fire on the beach and talk about life like the guys did, or go get their hair done and gossip about who was dating who like the girls did. Or steal Mikey's laptop and play games like all of them did.

Although, it would've been more awkward having her here, too, because a significant portion of his family refused to believe they weren't dating, and with the wedding and the baby shower, everyone would be nudging them. Sebast couldn't even argue with some of it; they _were_ cute together, he and Kala _did_ act like a couple a lot of the time, and there _were_ more-than-friendly feelings there. Having her here with all of the get-hitched-and-make-babies vibes floating around would just put pressure on them, right when they needed to sort things out and _not_ make it weirder.

Sebast realized, with a sinking feeling in his gut, that holidays together with his family probably weren't going to happen for a while. He doubted Red Hood would look kindly on the idea of his girlfriend going off to the islands for a week or two with some guy whose entire family kept planning their wedding. Not to mention, said guy couldn't help bristling every time he thought of Kala as someone else's girlfriend.

It was different, when she was with Marlene or Dustin. Sebast still had her, she was right there all the time, and those relationships didn't interfere with his. This with Jay Todd, it was intense enough that even if Sebast and Kala _hadn't_ slept together and made it weird, Jay would be interfering with their time. She was really, really serious about this one, and there was no end-date in sight.

Sebast wanted to hate the guy. Problem was, Kala seemed _happy_. He couldn't hate anything that made her happy. He loved her too much for that. So somehow, he'd have to stamp down on this jealousy and be the friend Kala needed. Maybe now he finally knew how she'd felt when he was dating Javier.

"Mi Kala," Sebast sighed to the empty room, looking at the window. Music drifted in; it was late, even by rock star standards, and yet someone was still awake. Still drinking and dancing and playing music and eating leftovers. If Kala _had_ been here, that would've been the two of them. Sebast had discovered he didn't like being a solo act, though, and he'd gone to bed at a reasonable hour for normal people.

Now he found himself wondering what Kala was doing. She was in Gotham for the post-Christmas week. Maybe she and Red Hood were drinking hot cocoa right about now. Or given the hour…

Sebast kicked himself out of _that_ train of thought. No, they were superheroes. At this time of night, they were probably out fighting bad guys. He didn't have to think about Kala's sex life. She was probably way too busy being heroic…

…

Kala and Jay landed on a roof nearby, watching the new fire. Something about it made him uneasy … and then he saw the side door. Lots of places in the area were abandoned or used by squatters, and sometimes you could tell by the door whether it was occupied. A broken lock meant people were there occasionally; a brand-new lock often meant that a gang had moved in and were protecting their assets.

When a door had three new locks on it, and was painted bright purple, you knew _whose_ gang was in residence. "Fuck, this is one of Joker's hideouts," Jay said. "K, can you see inside?"

She paused a moment, her gaze unfocused and intense before she shook her head. "I don't hear any movement or any heartbeats inside," she said distractedly, seeming to trace the length of the building. "The roof's leaded, I need to get a lower angle."

"Scratch that, I'd rather stay high for now," he said. Something about the whole situation bothered him. Was it a trap? But why would Joker set two fires this far apart? Was he trying to split them up?

Probably, Jay thought, and tensed. Everyone knew Blur was fast; maybe Joker was trying to get the two of them out here while the rest were at the first scene. "High alert, Blur, this could be a trap set for us."

She looked at him then, and the lenses in her domino were retracted, showing him her hazel eyes. "Good," Kala said, and a spark of red shone in each pupil. "Let him come."

"Stand down, Empress, we're not doing this tonight," Jay said firmly.

"You two are on your own channel," Babs said in his ear. "Everyone can hear me, other than right now, but only you can hear each other."

"Got it," Jay said. It was better to keep the Empress isolated from the rest of them; the last time she'd run into the whole family and their worries about her, she'd taken Jay somewhere in _Canada_ to get away from them.

Silence fell between them for a moment, long enough for Jay to wonder if Kala's alter ego had gone back to sleep, before those formal tones came again. "I dislike this vermin setting his sights on you," Kala said softly.

"I'm not a huge fan either," Jay said, scanning their surroundings. They quartered around the scene carefully, looking for Joker or his minions. All they saw were a few homeless people from a nearby building checking out the blaze, and under Kala's super-powered scrutiny they proved to be unarmed with anything more dangerous than a knife. In the distance, they heard fire engine sirens approaching.

"Heads-up, all teams," Babs said a few minutes later. "I just heard from Catwoman, who heard from Poison Ivy. Harley Quinn is out tonight."

"This is _her_ work," Jay said, feeling like he'd been sucker-punched. "Holy shit, O, it _has_ to be! If Joker burned down his own place to catch us we would've seen him by now. She'd do it for revenge!"

"Considering you're within three miles of the address Catwoman gave me as being near their hideout, I'm thinking you're right," Babs said. "She's probably still in the area."

"Better that we find her than Joker," Jay said grimly.

His only warning was, "Let us hunt," before Kala pulled him close, then they were in the sky again.

…

Harley had slipped out with a twinge of guilt, leaving Pam asleep. She _knew_ it would be smarter to stay in, to sleep in the safety of her lover's embrace. But damn, she was giving up enough to be free of Joker. Her city, her friends, her other lovers, her rivals, and even her family. Her _daughter_. Who knew how long it would be before she saw Lucy again?

It wasn't fair. She didn't deserve this. Harley knew she was basically terrible; she'd done a lot of horrible things over the years, she'd hurt people, she'd killed people, and at the time she'd reveled in it. The thrill of being with Joker was smashing all of society's rules, living in utter anarchistic freedom outside them. It was a wild, spontaneous existence, one that suited her need for an adrenaline rush … but it was also exhausting to maintain. Whenever she took a break to reflect – almost always with Pam, who let her experience a timeless sense of peace – Harley found herself with a lot of regrets.

Maybe it was fair, after all. Maybe the only way Harley could make up for the things she'd done was to sacrifice everything she knew, and try to start over someplace else. Maybe this was the price she had to pay to escape all of her misdeeds.

And maybe she could even the scales just a little bit, and offload some of that suffering onto the person who deserved it even more than she did. Without Joker, she never would've become a criminal. _He_ was the one who'd turned her onto this crooked, dangerous path. He deserved to pay for some of it.

His hospital stay wasn't enough. She needed to make a statement, to show him she wasn't afraid of him – even though she very much _was_. People _believed_ in her, she couldn't slink out of town like a coward. That'd be letting all those women down. They were kinda wrong, Harley was nobody's role model, they'd pinned their hopes on a vision of liberation that wasn't really _real_, but she had to try to live up to the image they had of her. And that rebellious independent woman wouldn't slip out like a thief, when Joker was hunting her all across Gotham … and she happened to know where all of his hideouts were.

Only one was really in range of their safehouse. Harley tiptoed around in as much disguise as she could manage on short notice – bundling up against the cold night with a hat pulled down over her hair and a scarf over her face took care of most of it. Still, if she was spotted, she'd be in trouble.

A piece of luck came her way, as it so often did. She spotted a tanker truck delivering gasoline. And the truck's driver was inside the store, making conversation instead of topping up the underground tanks. _Perfect._

Harley snuck up alongside the truck, its bulk hiding her from everyone in the store. She had one chance at this, she couldn't waste it … and somebody up there liked her, because the passenger door was unlocked and the keys were in the ignition. She fired it up and drove off. The driver was far too late to catch up to her, running out of the store yelling, and Harley accelerated with a triumphant laugh.

The sound was a little too familiar, though, and she shut her mouth, biting her lip. She had to stay focused. It was only a couple miles, not enough time for the cops to catch up to her, but she couldn't get distracted now. If she got caught, she'd end up in Arkham and then _he_ would get her.

Still, she had to leave her mark somehow. And this was a damn good way.

The most anxiety-inducing moment was when she approached the hideout. This was one of several places she and Joker had used regularly, and one the police hadn't found yet. He tended to change locations frequently, and randomly – they might move in, stay three nights, and then move on, or they might stay holed up in the same place for a couple months. Some of the guys hated it, but Harley noticed that Joker's hideouts were rarely found by the police. Maybe his wandering ways had a purpose, after all. It was hard to tell, with Joker.

The place was shuttered and dark, but that didn't mean he wasn't currently using it. Harley drove up boldly and parked by the back door, letting the truck idle and watching through her mirror. No one came out to investigate; probably no one was there. Disappointing, in a way, because she would've been delighted to barbecue Joker as a final send-off. But this would still send a message, while being marginally safer.

It was strange, for how much she'd loved him, how readily the hate flared up. Maybe something Selina had said once was true, and hate was just the other side of love. Or maybe Harley was finally waking up. She'd been willing to die for Joker, to kill for him, and most terrifyingly to live for him … but doing so forced her to ignore or forget a lot of things. The times he hit her. The times he stole her credit for their schemes. The times he offered her to other men, like she was nothing more than a bowl of candy to be passed around. And the fact that he _hadn't even noticed_ when she left town for six months to give birth to Lucy.

If he had noticed, he'd never asked her why she left. Or seemed to doubt that she'd return. Joker had thrown her out – through a window, even – multiple times, and never been surprised when she returned. Even in the depths of her madness, when she was convincing herself that he loved her and she needed him, the one thing Harley had been sure of was that he wouldn't love Lucy like she did. Seeing him shoot Bud was the last straw, and for a moment she'd seen her daughter lying there bleeding instead of the hyena. Nothing Harley could do would've kept Lucy safe.

She had laid in bed at night after she felt that first flutter of movement, after she saw the plus sign on the pregnancy test, trying to figure out how to tell Joker she was pregnant. Somehow, all the scenarios in her mind came out wrong. Even in the deepest denial of her life, Harley couldn't picture Joker as a good father. Or even a mediocre one. A mediocre dad would've been all right, with Harley's maternal devotion to compensate. But all Harley could envision for her child's future was pain and blood.

She'd rationalized it, like everything else, every scar on her skin or psyche. Joker was too busy, too perfectionist to put up with the struggles of parenthood. He wouldn't like being interrupted by a crying baby or a toddler's questions. And it would be hard to raise a child, with their lifestyle. Harley didn't let herself think about the obvious: if he hit her, he'd hit a child. If he played mind games with her, he'd have even more influence on the developing mind of a child.

And then, while she was still trying to figure it out, she'd failed to pay attention one day and Joker had hit her, hard, in the belly. Pain first, and the self-recrimination that always followed, but a cold blanket of fear descended on her: what if he'd hurt the baby?

That had been one of the very few times Harley had ever even _thought_ of turning on him. Her gun was out and aimed at Joker before she knew she meant to draw it. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against the muzzle. "Go on and do it," Joker challenged, laughter in his eyes. Like he knew something she didn't.

Harley had pulled the gun away. Later, she told herself it was because she loved him and would never hurt her Puddin'. In the moment, a voice that sounded like Pam had spoken in her mind: _You don't want to have your baby in Arkham_. So she'd withdrawn, and he'd laughed and slapped her face and then kissed her, and that night she'd begun to make plans to sneak away.

Abortion had never occurred to her. Harley _wanted_ this baby, she'd been filled with fierce wanting ever since she felt the first hint of movement, and the only way to keep little Lucy safe was to give her away. And the only person she could trust was Delia. _That_ had been a whole hellacious trial, because Delia wanted to save _both_ of them, but in the end she'd agreed to take the baby and let Harley go. She'd had a week with her daughter, long enough to make sure she got the colostrum and everything, and then she'd walked away.

And when she got the crying under control, she'd gone back to Joker, and he'd never mentioned her absence. All her elaborate plans meant nothing; he hadn't even tried to follow her. Harley had expected to be yelled out, maybe beaten, maybe even kicked out for a while – all of it would be worth it. She convinced herself she deserved it, even. Then Joker had treated her as if she'd been gone a day or two instead of six months. He'd never noticed, or never cared. Part of her had wanted to leave him again, let Delia save her, try to go live a fugitive's life … but somehow Joker sucked her back in, just like he always had, and she'd stayed. Never mind the times she woke up crying, missing her daughter. She always managed to convince herself that things with Joker were getting better…

Harley shook herself out of her reverie and focused on the present. Getting lost in the past was a good way to get killed, if Joker came back. No matter what had happened between them, she was going to have the last word in this breakup, and let the whole city know it. She didn't turn the truck off, hopping out and hurrying to the side. It had four different tanks, and four different valves. Each one was labeled with how many gallons it could hold, and what type of fuel it held. Harley ignored the premium compartment because it was only a thousand gallons; the first compartment held regular fuel, three thousand gallons of the stuff. That was _plenty_ of gasoline.

She uncapped the valve and stood as far to one side as she could before opening it halfway. Gas started splashing out immediately, filling the air with its rich, nauseating smell. Harley ran back to the cab and jumped in, knowing the vapor was extremely flammable. One little spark, and _she'd_ be the one getting barbecued.

Harley drove around the building, which occupied an entire block, gasoline splashing freely from the truck all the way around. When she got back to the back door again, the first fuel compartment was almost empty. No matter, she had three more.

Was that overkill? Probably. Did she _care_? Not at all. Harley opened the other valves and let the fuel run out, remembering all the times one of the guys had complained about this back door being set slightly below street level, and how the rain would get in. Right now gasoline was seeping under the door, soaking the carpet, and pretty soon there was going to be one hell of a fireworks show.

While the tanks drained, she went back to the cab again, and started looking for something to light it with. Matches would work, but she'd have to be way too close to get it to actually ignite. Harley had seen Joker put out a cigarette by dropping it into a puddle of gasoline; liquid gasoline didn't ignite. Gasoline _vapor_ did, and on a cold day like this, there wouldn't be much vapor above the pools of gas on the ground. To get a fire going, she'd need to keep a flame right there at the sweet spot where the vapor mixed with the air. Trying to do that while holding a match, well, at best she'd get singed. At worst, fully roasted. The best spot was right by the open valves, where the splashing gas was agitated and the fumes were strongest, but there was too much vapor there, it'd go up much too fast. She had to figure out a way to light it without standing on top of it.

Harley had seen a small canister of gas tossed in with the fittings and spare gloves; she could stuff the gloves or a rag into the opening and make a makeshift Molotov out of it. That would stay burning long enough to get the puddles of gas to light up, and then as it burned the heat would cause more liquid gas to evaporate into flammable vapor, plus the fire would create convection that would also increase evaporation, and pretty damn quickly it would _all_ go up in a glorious red and black fireball. Plus, she could throw the can from a safer distance.

Harley couldn't help giggling. As if there was any _safe_ distance from something like eight thousand gallons of gasoline that she intended to set ablaze. She found a towel stuffed between the seats, and a nice Zippo lighter in the glove compartment. "Bingo," she laughed, and went to grab the canister, staying clear of the fuel pooling in the street.

The entire back half of the building was going to be one big fireball, so she hurried around the corner and stood well back from the trail of gasoline before lighting up the canister and throwing it. A perfect arc, the canister landing right into the line of spilled fuel, and Harley ran for it, trying to get another solid concrete building between her and the impending explosion. She couldn't resist looking back, though, peeking out from cover.

The towel stuffed in the neck of the canister was burning, but the gas puddled on the ground hadn't lit up. Harley frowned, wondering if it was just too cold. It still should've worked, so why wasn't it…

A flicker of gorgeous summery blue raced over the top of the pooled gasoline, and Harley had seen plenty of explosions over the years. She jerked back just in time.

The sound wasn't 'boom' or 'kabang!' or anything movies she watched as a kid would've used in their sound effects. It was more of a _fwomp_, all the air rushing toward the explosion, and then a hot sour wind blasted back, along with the sound of windows and doors shattering. Harley laughed out loud, raising both middle fingers toward the fire. "_Fuck you, Mistah J!_" she yelled, and it was the _best_ feeling she'd had in years. Wild, exhilarating joy soared through her.

And then she heard sirens in the distance. Maybe not even heading this way, not yet, Gotham's emergency services were rarely that fast. But it was a reminder that the firefighters and cops _would_ be coming, and if they caught up with her, she might as well try for suicide by cop. It'd be better than what Joker would do to her.

Harley suddenly realized that her great plan was missing one crucial component: a getaway. She was on foot, a couple miles from safety, and the best place to hijack a car was the gas station she'd just put on high alert. Cursing under her breath, Harley started running; she'd have to slow to a walk soon, a running person was always suspicious, but she had to get _some_ distance between her and the fire quickly. Even worse, a woman walking alone on this side of town was _also_ suspicious. She'd really, _really_ fucked this up…

…

They were hunting Harley, but this could still wind up as a trap. Joker was hunting her, too, and if he knew about the hideout burning, he'd want her head on a pike. Kala knew that, but she couldn't let herself think too hard about it.

Every time she thought about Joker lately, the Empress woke in the base of her brain, and it would've been all too easy to let her rise. Kala kept a stranglehold on her alter ego, especially around Jay, but the moment they'd thought the fire was a trap specifically for _them_, the Empress was in the forefront of her mind, ready to put a very final end to that particular nightmare. Kala couldn't help remembering the moment she'd looked into his eyes and found nothing human there, even less recognition than Poison Ivy. There was still some of Dr. Pamela Isley left, or Selina wouldn't be so devoted to both of her friends. Kala knew she shouldn't let Selina's friendships color her opinion of the two criminals, but she couldn't help it. _Mom and Dad_ knew Selina, and liked her; Kala herself liked Selina. Catwoman was a good judge of character, and she'd risked her life just to say goodbye to them both. If there was something in Harley and Ivy that she could love, then the two of them might have a chance at redemption.

But Joker? Whoever he'd been before this was _gone_. He'd been the one who turned Dr. Quinzel into his harlequin. Kala knew just enough of Harley's story to shudder. She had the Empress mostly under control, but she knew what it was like to be pushed to your limits by a master manipulator. Dru-Zod had tried to mold her, not as violently as Joker had molded Harley, but they'd both been under the sway of men who saw them only for what they could be made into. And Kala still carried the fractured soul of who General Zod had wanted her to be.

The more she heard about Harley, especially Selina's protectiveness and passionate defense, the more Kala could empathize. And she'd always been ecologically-minded enough to sympathize with Ivy. It didn't change the fact that they had almost gotten the zookeeper killed, or that Ivy had tried to control Kala herself. Just because Catwoman trusted them was no reason to think they wouldn't hurt the Blur, maybe even kill her, if they could. They _were_ dangerous.

Joker was much more dangerous, and not just to them. The threat was blatant; if he caught Harley, she'd die the kind of death that even seasoned cops whispered about. Kala wanted to find her, and _quickly_. Before _he_ did.

She needed a cooler mind for that, and the Empress retreated, still ready to surge forth at the first hint of a maniacal laugh. Holding Jay close, Kala began to fly in widening circles, looking down at the few people out and about at this hour.

"Harley's smart enough not to be running," Jay said, scanning the streets with her. "Check everyone. Shit, did you double-check those homeless people?"

"All men," Kala said absently, sounding more like herself this time and she felt Jay relax slightly. She squeezed his hand briefly in reassurance before refocusing. They flew over a person sleeping in a doorway, not yet awakened by the blaze or the sirens.

"How can you tell?" Jay asked.

"X-ray vision," Kala said, looking beneath the layers of blankets and coats. The person below had the narrow shoulders and broader hips of a woman, but she was too old to be Harley, even in disguise, and her face wasn't even close. Kala flew on.

"Please tell me you're not just checking everyone's underwear," Jay said.

If the Empress hadn't gone quietly, God knows what response that would have gotten. She cut him a glare, herself unamused. "Anatomical markers, Jay. With practice you can tell a male skeleton from a female one at a glance. _That's_ what I'm looking at. Then age, face shape, skin tone – I know Harley could be wearing makeup, but I doubt she'd cover _everything_."

"Gotcha, keep at it," Jay said. _Asshole_. Kala elbowed him slightly; she wasn't a fucking _rookie_, for God's sake. That said, it really should have been a given after that little cameo by her darker half. They were both tense, justifiably so, and this was just his way of dealing with it.

Over the comm, Batman said he had the Batmobile and was trying to locate Joker, leaving the second fire to them for the moment. That was fine by Kala. If Bruce found him, Joker would live through the night, but Harley would get away. If Joker was closer to them, he might find Harley first. She couldn't let that happen. Supers didn't play executioner; not even her, not without knowing the crimes firsthand. No matter what Harley had done, she didn't deserve what he would do to her. No one did.

Kala wanted to push the speed, to fly faster, but then she risked overshooting her target. She was still flying fast enough for the cold air to press hard against her exposed face, slowing a little every time she spotted someone below. She saw more people, three men standing around a car, and it looked like a drug deal – but tonight that wasn't her problem.

And then, a woman walking briskly by herself, with her hands in her pockets and a scarf wrapped around her face against the chill. Kala didn't know Harley well enough to recognize her by gait alone, so she slowed, and looked closer. A hat covered the woman's hair, but that was no barrier to Kala's sight … and the hair was white-blonde.

Kala stopped, hovering, and Jay looked down too. The woman wore a coat over a sweater over a long-sleeved shirt, and Kala felt a twinge at the impropriety of looking beneath her clothing. Her skin was unnaturally white … except where fading bruises colored it yellow and green. A chill passed over her then; no going back now, they would have to play this to the conclusion, for good or ill. "It's her," she whispered, and checked for weapons.

A big damn revolver, .357 magnum at least, and a couple knives, plus a weighted sap in one pocket which Harley was clutching tightly in her left hand. Her right was on the butt of the gun.

"Jesus fuck, we got her," Jay murmured, sounding surprised and relieved and wary all at the same time.

Still with mixed feelings over what would come next, Kala tried to distance herself and lock down. "She's armed, her hand is on the gun," Kala told him, sounding more sure than she truly was. "Let me take her."

He nodded. "Go, I'll back you up."

Then speed, _speed_, dropping Jay behind the target and rushing up on Harley too fast for her to see, too fast for her to turn at the sound of Jay's boots on the pavement. Control the gun first, Kala's hand diving into her pocket, angling the muzzle away from Harley's own leg. She tried to draw it, her heart leaping to jack-hammer speed, and Kala let her get it clear of the coat before covering Harley's hand with her other one and pulling her fingers off the grip, gentle even in her haste. Kala danced back out of sap range, pushing the cylinder out and shaking the rounds free. With the revolver – a design she'd never seen before, heavily embellished – unloaded, Kala tossed it to Jay, calling out, "Hood, catch!"

And then she dove back in, catching a glimpse of Harley's terrified eyes and steeling herself against pity. Kala dodged the swing of the sap and pulled every knife she could see, flinging them across the road out of reach. Another swing of the sap, and Kala caught Harley's wrist, taking it from her and tossing that last defense aside.

It didn't mean Harley was giving up, though. She drove a desperate punch at Kala's throat, forcing her to dodge without releasing Harley's arm. It was unfortunate that she'd come into this primed for compassion, seeing _weapons_ as _defenses_, because Kala didn't want to handle her as roughly as, say, the drug dealer Eggs. Her sympathy let Harley get a hand on her shoulder, and then she kicked up into Kala's belly as hard as she could.

Which, given the uniform and her invulnerability, just made Harley take a gasping breath of pain as she bruised the hell out of her shin. "What the _fuck_, what kind of armor _is_ that?" she hissed, hopping on one foot.

Kala still held her wrist, trying to look her in the eye. The trapped, frantic element in her attack just made her even more uneasy. "Then don't do it again. I don't want to hurt you; that's not what we're to do. Don't make this any harder than it has to be, Harleen," she warned.

Rage flared in those wide, frightened eyes, and Harley swung at her face, Kala catching her fist just an inch away from her mouth. "Fuck _you_, new kid, I don't know _your_ name, you got no right to use mine!"

Kala's uncertain feelings, frustration and anger and empathy, roared over her then, snapping back at her when she spoke. This was just too familiar, in a way. "Hey, if you don't want to be _his_ anymore, you need to take your _self_ back," Kala told her, trying to steady her.

"Oh fuck off, what do _you_ know about it?" Harley snarled, but there were tears in her eyes.

That reaction, in all defiance of what anyone expected from Harley Quinn, stalled her. The despair there hit like a suckerpunch, the hopelessness, the hunted look in her eyes. _So familiar._ Kala stopped then, not fighting, just holding her still, and behind Harley, Jay stopped his careful advance. "More than you'd think," Kala said quietly.

There was an instant where she thought she might've gotten through, might have made a fragile connection, and then Harley shut it down with fury rising in her gaze. "Boo hoo, we've all got a sob story, join the fuckin' club," Harley snapped, and planted one foot into Kala's hip to try and kick herself loose.

She'd dislocate her shoulders before she did that, and Kala let go only to grab her elbows and pull them behind her. "Can't hurt me with that, Doctor Quinzel. You've got a right to your sob story. Just settle down; we don't want you to get hurt and if you keep doing that, you could be, whether I want to or not."

"Spare me the fuckin' goody-two-shoes pity-party," Harley shot back, still fighting tears. "I'd rather you just break my arms."

Kala gave her a slight shake, losing her temper a little. "_I don't want to find your body tomorrow morning._ _ Don__'t you understand that? None of us want to find you dead, Harley! _ Not from him, not like this! Joker's out there right now, there's another fire across town where he burned your initials into a school. Joker's out here somewhere moving around, looking for you, and I don't want to have to look Catwoman in the eye and tell her I saw your corpse."

"So great, whaddya gonna do now, take me in?" Harley laughed at that, the wild escalating laugh ringing off the empty buildings. "That'll be great, I'll be in Arkham right where he expects me – or Gordon'll stuff me in County lockup with a whole bunch of people who know Joker's got a price on my head. Yeah, that's good, Blur. Take me in, you might as well sign my death certificate yourself."

She was right; Kala knew in her heart she was right. "We're _not_ taking you back to Arkham," Kala said, feeling panic burble in her chest. She looked at Jay, trying to communicate how torn she felt. There were no easy answers here.

He scowled beneath the helmet. "Batman's got a cell in the cave," he said.

Harley scoffed. "Aww, how sweet, Batsy's branching out. From vigilantism to kidnapping and imprisonment. So he's gonna hold my hand for his girlfriend's sake, right? That's adorable. Lemme ask you this, though, how long's he gonna keep me locked up? In solitary, mind you, which is inhumane."

Kala just looked at Jay, her stomach sinking. It had seemed like the best of a bad bunch of options when Bruce said it that morning, but how long would it go on? How long could he keep her locked up in a literal cave, trying to catch the person who wanted to kill her? How long before Harley broke out, or went even crazier in confinement?

Harley continued, "And when you _do_ catch Joker, what're you gonna do with me? You won't let me _go_, I'm much too dangerous for that. So what then, you hand me off to the cops, and I land right back in Arkham – just down the hall from my ex."

Jay looked down, then met Kala's eyes, his own troubled. All she could say was, "He nailed a dead cat to Selina's door…"

"Yeah, what he'll do to _me_ is gonna make that look like kiddie stuff," Harley said, her tone harsh. "Listen, you wanna do me a favor, just kill me yourselves, all right? Hoodie, I know you know how. At least it'll be _quick_."

"_No_," Kala told her vehemently. "That's not how we do things."

But what the fuck else were they supposed to do? If Harley had stayed quiet, no one would've known where she was, she could've gotten _away_. Even Bruce said that she might be able to redeem herself, if she was with Pam. Maybe they could both get out, and _not_ be a danger to the public.

If they brought her in, she was as good as dead, sooner or later. And that would be Harley's blood on their hands. Could either of them live with that?

Kala looked at Jay with stricken eyes, and he touched the comm embedded in his helmet. "Oracle, you still got us on our own channel?"

A pause, and then Babs' digitized voice said, "Hood, Blur, I'm not hearing your audio. There's interference in the area. Are you still searching?"

_That_ hit Kala like a sucker punch. It was far too conveniently timed, Babs had to hear them … and she was letting them know she'd back them up, whatever they decided. _Babs_ was going to cover for them, destroying this recording.

Kala took a deep breath, and let it out. They were doing this; it had to be now. "When's your flight?" she asked.

Harley twisted around to look at her in shock. "_What?_"

"When's your flight, Harley?" Jay said. "If you stay in Gotham, you're dead. So if we don't wanna find you tomorrow, we gotta keep you safe until that plane takes off."

Letting go of her arms, Kala made herself step back, and Harley stared at her in bewilderment. "What is this, some kinda game? You think if you say you're letting me go, I'll lead you to Pam? Because fuck _that_, I've brought enough trouble into her life already." Her voice was rising in suspicion and fear.

"No, we're letting you go because you're trying to do the right thing in all of this," Kala said, keeping her tone gentle. "Catwoman vouched for you in this. It doesn't wipe your ledger clean, and we'll be watching the news feeds to make sure you don't make waves, but … Joker is a much bigger monster that has to be stopped. You made your break with him, stopped all activties, then lashed out. He's going to keep coming if you stay. But if you and Ivy are gone, we can focus on finishing what you started. _Please_, Harleen, get out of here."

She looked back and forth between them, her eyes widening. "Holy fuck, you really mean it, you're gonna scrub him right under Batsy's nose? Damn, Hood, bet he won't invite you over for dinner after _that_!"

"The fucker beat me to death with a goddamn crowbar, I think I'm entitled," Jay said dryly. "Besides, I told Batman I wouldn't hunt him down, but if he crosses my path, he's history. Can't say he wasn't warned."

Harley laughed again, still with an edge of hysteria in it. "Shit, you're about the only one I wouldn't be pissed at for that. Go on and do him dirty, Hood. He deserves it. I was never cool with killin' kids. Never kids." There was a flinty look in her eyes then, sharp rage, before she glanced between them, then deliberately lightened her expression and grinned at Kala. "_I'm_ the one who called in the tip-off about the venom in the sprinklers, this past summer. Which, if I'd known _your_ speedy ass was around, I might've steered a lot clearer. You ever wake up hog-tied with a pissed-off hyena in your lap? It ain't fun."

"It was _your_ hyena, and you tried to brain me for it later. Not to mention, set me up for Ivy, and I'm still pissed about that," Kala said, letting an edge of her anger creep into her voice again. It shut Harley down immediately, her eyes going round as she took a step back. "That said, I'm just not pissed enough to want you maimed or even dead. Enough is enough. Run, Doctor Quinzel. Make that flight. Get the hell out of Gotham, take Ivy with you, and _stay_ gone. Nobody deserves what he's planning."

"Girl, whatever it is, it's worse than you can imagine," Harley said, taking another step back and eyeing her escape route.

"Harley," Jay said, and her attention snapped to him. He held up her gun, and tossed it to her. "Keep this. I'm a Glock guy."

She caught the unloaded revolver with a fleeting grin, glanced at the bullets and knives scattered across the road, then turned and _ran_.

Kala let out the breath she'd been holding, watching her go with her chest tight. That had stirred up a few too many ghosts, looking deep into a dark mirror she knew too well. Maybe in this, she had set a little part of the shattered girl in her mind free. A little shiver ran through her at that thought. "Maybe we shouldn't have given her back the gun."

"Yeah? You wanna get caught with it? Makes lying to Batman a whole lot harder," Jay said. "It's unloaded, anyway."

He looked at her seriously, and Kala steadied under it. She knew what he was thinking – they'd just said it out loud, with Babs listening in, and in front of Harley. "You get to kill him, I'll make sure there's no body to find," she said, and the words were final and cold on her tongue. With that said, the pact completed, here and moments after letting the Joker's endlessly-abused right-hand go with her own life. Another shiver ran through her, fighting a sudden feeling of doom before forcing it away. It was necessary and too-long coming. She could look at her conscience later, when it was all over, before anyone else could know. To distract herself, she set about kicking the bullets and knives into the gutter drain, getting rid of the evidence.

"You know what you're saying, K?" Jay asked her gently, kicking the sap into the drain on his side. "This is premeditated murder we're talking about."

He was right; there was no running from it, pretending she didn't mean every word. There was only one regret Kala could possibly have over it, but this wouldn't even set the precedent. What was one more monster? Looking up to meet his gaze, she sighed heavily. "Someone has to stop him and we both know that B won't, he never will. No more deaths; it's gone on too long, Jay. _Harley_ just gave you her blessing. I told you all along, I'll back you up. I worry what my father would think; he won't like it, I know he won't, but under the circumstances I think he would understand. We're going to have to be the ones to do this or no one will."

Jay just nodded, and the weighty moment passed. Both of their comms crackled, Babs saying, "Hood, Blur, where _are_ you? I'm not reading either of you."

And then Bruce's voice, "Give me their last known location." Kala remembered Oracle had pulled their voices onto a separate channel, but they could still hear the main if she wanted them to.

"Get us up," Jay said, reaching for her, and without a word Kala soared up and out, quartering away from the direction Harley had run to land them on a rooftop. Jay tapped his helmet again, and said, "Oracle, can you read us? I lost you for a minute there – we landed to check a door that looked forced."

"You must've gone into a Faraday cage, I lost your signals," Babs said, sounding relieved. "Any sign of Harley?"

"No, no luck there," Jay said, as easily as if it were the truth. Kala let out a slow, relieved breath; she hadn't even realized she had been holding it. "She might've timed the explosion somehow, and slipped away. Or stolen another car. We're still flying a search pattern."

"I'm on my way," Bruce said, and Kala looked into Jay's eyes despite the helmet.

He just nodded. "We're doing the best we can," he said, to her and over the comm. "Sometimes, even the bad guys get lucky."

Kala gave a slight shrug, still fighting the conflicting feelings in her heart, still trying to make peace with what had happened tonight. She'd just let a criminal – a known murderer, clinically insane – go free. But what other choice did she have? "Jay, you'd better text Selina and let her know we couldn't find Harley," she said aloud, proud of all those theater classes. The trick was making herself believe the lie for a moment, long enough to let it come out sounding like truth. "She can at least let Ivy know."

He nodded, and pulled out his phone to do so, Kala turning to look through the buildings. Harley had stopped running to hotwire a car parked in a lot just off the main road. The way she looked over her shoulder, as if expecting them to take it back and haul her in, plucked at Kala's heart. _Justice is nothing if not tempered by mercy,_ was one of Jor-El's sayings, and on Krypton they'd thought _mercy_ was the Phantom Zone instead of death.

Kala could only hope that her own merciful decision didn't have any such dangerous repercussions. One way or another, whatever Harley did from now on, Kala would be complicit in it.


	34. Of the Thousand Invitations

Ivy had everything packed up and ready to roll. She'd even gotten the hyenas into their kennels in the back of the van without being seen. The only reason she wasn't on the street looking for Harley was the faint hope that she'd turn up back here. If Harley did that and found her gone, she'd just go back out looking for her … and Joker was out there somewhere.

Waiting without knowing was the worst sort of torture. She could wait in Arkham for days, weeks, months, patient as only the Green could be, because sooner or later they always made a mistake. Somehow, some way, she'd get free again. Waiting in this ordinary living room for Harley to return, not knowing if even now Joker had found her, scraped Ivy's nerves raw and made her heart beat painfully in her chest.

Her phone rang – leaving it on was a risk, but to hell with risk. Right now she needed to _know_. It was Selina's number, and Ivy snatched it up, ready to be relieved instead of furious if Harley had gotten herself captured by the Bats. At least then Ivy would know where she was. "Well?" she demanded.

"I just heard from Red Hood and Blur," Selina said.

Of course it would fall to Joker's nemesis and the meta on the team. Pam sighed, dropping into a chair. "They caught her."

"No. She set fire to one of Joker's hideouts, and they think it was her, but he called to tell me they hadn't spotted her," Selina said. "She's probably on her way back to you."

"She set fire to one of his hideouts?!" Ivy exclaimed, a vicious ache pulsing in her temples. "She _does_ have a death wish. Goddess spare me."

"It's a very impressive fire, apparently. I'm surprised Blur didn't spot her," Selina said. "At least we know she made it away from the scene in one piece."

"How do they know that, if they never saw her?" Ivy asked.

She could almost picture Selina's shrug, by her dry tone. "Blur's got enhanced senses, I guess she could see if a fight happened. Pam, honey, call me when Harley gets in, all right? I want to take a chunk out of her for being this reckless, too. But I also want to hear her voice and know she's all right."

Selina sounded oddly calm; maybe she knew something she couldn't pass on. It was frustrating to have a friend who worked for the other side. Right now, as long as Harley was safe, Ivy didn't care about anything else. "I will. None of your other caped friends saw any sign of her?"

"They're all on the _first_ fire, the one Joker set," Selina told her, and when Ivy gasped, she continued. "Yeah, he burned down part of a high school. Set out the accelerant so it spells 'J + H' from the air. There's no way Harley could've known, with the timing, but this is going to look like a blatant 'fuck you' message, when he realizes she was burning down his current address while he was out sending a message to her."

"Good. Let him froth about it when we're well out of the city," Ivy said coldly, and heard the scrape of keys in the lock.

She froze, for one second thinking betrayal, expecting that Selina had kept her on the phone just long enough for that to be a Bat breaking in … but no, that was just paranoia, the Bats didn't have keys. They'd pick the lock or come in through a window. She heard the distinctive click and turned, her heart thundering, to see Harley herself skitter through the door, panting and wide-eyed.

"She's here," Pam said, and forgot all about letting Selina talk to Harley. She just dropped the phone to the nearest surface and stepped toward Harley, holding her arms out. "Harley, my love, _come here_."

"I'm sorry, Pammy, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you but I couldn't let it go," Harley babbled, still breathless, as she launched herself into Ivy's arms. She was trembling all over with more than cold, and she smelled faintly of gasoline. "I know I shouldn't have, I know, I'm sorry, I promise I'll be good from now on, that was a dumb thing I did and I'm sorry, I love you, I promise I won't…"

Ivy caught her chin, tilted her face up, and cut her off with a kiss. Harley made a surprised _mmph_ noise, but wrapped her arms around Ivy's neck and leaned into it. When she pulled back for air, Ivy murmured, "I don't care. I love you. All that matters is you're here, you're safe, none of them saw you."

Harley gave a wild laugh at that. "I ain't that lucky, Pam-a-lamb. Freakin' _Blur_ caught me, and holy _shit_ she's fast, she took all my knives and my gun before I could even _see_ it happen! The craziest thing is, her and Hoodie _let me go_!"

Pam reared back in horror. "_Harleen!_ Did they let you go, or did they track you?" Even now her mind raced, wondering what she could possibly do against an unknown meta who'd broken her control once before.

Harley's eyes flashed with hurt – and a burst of temper. "Gimme _some_ credit, Pam. I knew better than to lead 'em back to you. If there's anything I'm good at, it's avoidance. I even ditched my coat and scarf in case she planted a tracker on me."

Ivy cupped her cheeks, feeling how cold her skin was, and kept her voice mild. "Harley, darling, I know how brilliant you are. I love that about you. But we are wheels-up in _three hours_ and you snuck out to intentionally provoke the man who wants to kill you slowly. You get zero credit for anything right now."

She wilted a little with that pointed out. "Yeah, okay, that's fair. But they did let me go. I think they were gonna bring me in, and apparently Batman's got a cell set aside in the Batcave for me – yeesh, creepy much? – but when I pointed out what a bad idea that was, the two of 'em decided to let me go. She took all my weapons, even took the bullets outta my gun, and that made getting home awful scary. I guess Selina was right, they really don't wanna get me killed."

"At least those two don't," Pam said, thoughtful. She leaned in and kissed Harley again, soft and welcoming and glad to have her home safe.

Harley smiled into it, and leaned her forehead against Ivy's. "Hoodie even talked to somebody – it's weird, the Bats use the same information broker I heard from in the squad, some chick named Oracle – and I think she faked not being able to hear 'em. Even the good guys want us to get away."

"Once we're out of the States, we're not their problem anymore," Ivy murmured, and held her close.

"Also that's one thing about Batsy, he doesn't want any of us killed." Harley yawned, and snuggled against her. "Y'know, as much as I wanna kill Mistah J, I'm glad to get out."

"Me too," Pam murmured, stroking her hair.

Harley sighed. "Red Hood and the Blur are gonna kill 'im. I can't even be mad, after what Joker did to him. And she's _fierce_ about her boyfriend. I wonder if Batsy knows those two are plannin' to murder the Joker right under his nose."

"They'll have to be careful. Joker is entirely too lucky," Pam told her.

"'S not luck," Harley said, and yawned again. "At least, not if wha' he tol' me is true. Might not've been. He lies sometimes … all the stories … run together."

"What did he tell you?" Ivy asked, intrigued despite herself.

"Tha' he doesn' hafta worry 'bout anythin', nobody can kill 'im. Supposedly he made a deal w' the devil, full moon and a crossroads and all tha' spooky shit." Harley's voice was starting to slur, and she blinked owlishly at Ivy.

The thought of Joker literally selling his soul for immortality should have sounded ridiculous, like just another of his grandiose pronouncements, but it sent a chill up Ivy's spine. There were stranger things out there walking the night. And Joker _had_ escaped what looked like certain death on far too many occasions.

Of course, he'd told a lot of self-aggrandizing lies, too. Harley yawned again. "'m so tired. Why'm I so tired?"

"Because I'm not letting you do anything else reckless until we can get on that plane," Pam told her gently. "I love you, Harley. I hope you'll forgive me. That last kiss was loaded with enough sedative-hypnotic compounds to knock out a horse."

Harley blinked at her, and tried to smile. "Pammy … tha's _rude_…" A moment later, she slumped over snoring, and Ivy got her settled on the couch.

She sighed, looking down at her lover. Joker was probably just telling tales – he could spin a story out of nothing, to impress his enemies or followers. And she didn't strictly believe in any nonsense about deals with the devil. Then again, most people didn't believe in her connection to the Green.

Turning away, Ivy saw the phone still sitting on the bookshelf where she'd left it, and went to pick it up. The screen was still lit up, and she placed it to her ear. "How much of that did you hear, Selina?"

"Enough to know my hunch was right. No reason for Hood to call me just to say he _hadn't_ seen her," Selina replied. "I'm not saying a word to anybody. You take care of Harley, all right? And I'm going to have to break this phone before Bats figures out I have it, or he'll want to trace you."

Pam sighed, knowing that breaking the burn phones was only temporary. "Leave yours active for now, and I'll let you know when we're out. Then we can both snap the SIM cards and slow him down a little."

"Sounds like a plan. You've got my address, you can always send a postcard," Selina said, sounding bleak.

Ivy let herself smile. She and Selina were more complicated and contentious than Selina and Harley, but she'd proven herself the kind of friend they were lucky to have. "Maybe I'll just send you a private message on Capespotting. I know that's you on the Catwoman fan page, Selina."

At least it earned her a laugh. "Careful, he knows that screen name. His flock stalks the message boards, too. I'm going to make myself another account soon here, just so I have some anonymity."

"We'll figure something out. Selina, I'm getting in the van now. We can wait somewhere until it's time to leave." Ivy looked around the small apartment ruefully, knowing it wouldn't be easy to get the last few things loaded without Harley's help. Moving Harley herself wouldn't be easy, either.

"Be safe. Joker's going to be extra pissed when he realizes what she did," Selina told her. "Pam – I love you both."

With no witnesses, Ivy let herself answer truthfully. "We love you, too. _You_ be safe. Once he realizes we're gone, he's going to lose whatever mind he has left."

And that prospect was horrifying enough to send a chill down her spine as she signed off with Selina.

…

Jay had things locked down by the time they left to meet up with the rest. He and Kala had helped fight the fire at Joker's hideout, but there wasn't much they could do without specialized training. The gasoline burned off pretty quickly anyway, leaving a shell of a building, and at least they could confirm no one had been inside.

So, Brentwood, Batclan, and the acid test. Honestly, Jay didn't care about it for his own sake. If Bruce figured out that he'd let Harley go, so the fuck what? It was a judgment call, and he'd done what looked like it would cause the least harm at the time. He was only worried for Kala. If Bruce figured it out, he might tell her father, and _that_ wouldn't go well.

"No sign of her?" Batman asked when they landed on the roof next to the smoking remains of the Batplane.

"No, she got away clean," Jay said, keeping his voice level. "Any luck with Joker?"

"Not yet. When he finds that hideout burned, he may do something to reveal himself," Bruce said, and it seemed that easy. They might just get away with it.

Then he fixed his shrewd gaze on Kala, and Jay's stomach tightened. Ah shit, he'd jinxed it just thinking it. "Do you have it under control?" Bruce asked.

She blinked, brows furrowed, and Jay saw understanding dawn. "Oh, yeah, we're status quo. It was only a brief slip. It was a really strong surge … but that shouldn't be a huge surprise. We already know she really _hates_ Joker."

"Because you hate Joker," Bruce pointed out.

To her credit, Kala didn't bristle at the blunt appraisal, though her eyes did flash. No other physical reaction to being called out. He was proud of her. "Who doesn't?" Kala quipped, but Jay heard an edge of challenge in her voice. No one else bothered to argue with her, though.

Instead, all of them looked down at the burning school, and Oracle's voice crackled in their ears. "According to the fire chief, it looks like the fire had three distinct origins."

"It'd have to, to make the initials," Jay muttered. He still couldn't believe his old school was toasted. It felt uncomfortably like someone walking over his grave – and he'd stood before his own headstone, he knew that feeling better than most.

Babs continued, "I've got a bad feeling about this, people. They've isolated at least one of the initial fire locations, and it's a classroom that was the home room for seniors with the last name A through D, last year."

Tim startled at that. "Ms. Seebol's room?"

"Yes, that's the teacher's name. I'm checking my records, but I suspect the other two locations will be similarly significant."

"This isn't coincidence," Dick said, his voice cold. "My car, the library – this is targeted. He's_ taunting_ us." Jay bristled at the thought, the way he always did when Joker got up to his tricks.

"He _knows_?" Kala said, horrified, and Jay knew why chills were running up her spine. The same ice was dancing along his own nerves. Anyone who knew who they were had a better chance of figuring out who everyone _else_ was. The mere possibility of _Joker_ knowing, of their worst enemy having all that information at his fingertips, was enough to make Jay nauseous.

"He knows who I am," Babs said. "He's known that ever since Batgirl disappeared. Most of our allies should be safe – we arranged things so our guests wouldn't be obvious. But I highly suspect he knows the true identities of at least some of us."

"He could've figured me out real easy, years ago," Jay said, keeping his voice level by effort of will. And then, looking at Kala, he added, "You're safe. There's no reason to connect you – as far as anyone knows, your other identity is miles from here. We did it that way on purpose."

As much as she had fought down the Empress earlier, he could see the ghost of her alter in her coldly-furious expression. It only seemed to compound her earlier declaration. "I'm not worried about that right now," Kala said staunchly. "This is _your_ city. My problem is that I don't like him knowing about _you_. Or any of you, for that matter."

"One Robin could be coincidence. If he's guessed two more, he knows Batman," Tim pointed out.

"Which means he will definitely target the Roost," Bruce said grimly.

"Catwoman said he might come there anyway," Babs hastened to add. "I'm sure she's taking precautions."

"The Roost is a defensible position," Bruce replied. "We need to get back to it – we have guests who are unaware of the situation."

Jay nodded, and figured now was a good time to try and regroup. "Blur and I are going to my place. I've got more of my stuff there – and if there _is_ a problem at the Roost, we'll be unaffected and able to come in and outflank trouble."

Bruce looked at him shrewdly, but nodded. "Go. Stay in touch."

"Always," Kala said reassuringly.

She flew the both of them to the bunker without a word, seeming lost in thought, and Jay shut the door with a deep sigh. "Well, _fuck_," he finally said.

"Yeah," Kala replied with a slow exhale of her own, pulling at the elastic in her hair to run anxious hands through it. Yeah, K was feeling the tension, too. He popped the helmet off and tossed it aside, then wrapped his arms around her and buried his nose in her now-loose hair. "Absolutely not how I expected this to fall out tonight. This is nuts, y'know?"

"It is. But we did the best we could," Jay said.

She laughed bleakly against his collarbone. "It's my second day here. If this is the way things are trending, we're gonna have Godzilla wading out of the bay by New Year's to duke it out with King Ghidorah. No need for all this excitement just for me."

"We'll have to fit that in our busy lying-to-Batman, murdering-the-Joker schedule, then," Jay said, rubbing her back.

Kala looked up at him, her eyes stricken. He should have expected that, really, considering her stance on it. Her conscience was nagging her now, even if she'd been sure of her decision at the time. "Jay, I'm sorry. I just … I couldn't see any other way out. I don't want to find her dead, Jay. It should have been your call, I know, and I know it's not what Dad would've done…"

"I get it," Jay said, cutting her off gently. "What else could we do? Fly her to the Fortress? It's another prison, at least one with sunlight and fresh air. And if you take her there, she's gonna know what you are. Might as well take out a billboard."

She shivered. "I never thought of that and thank God. That would have been … yeah, not real bright. But I could see how it would look to her, to be locked up in the Batcave. We all know that wouldn't have ended well; it actually might even have been the more dangerous option, if we don't underestimate her. Think about it: she's got no reason to trust Batman. Or anyone else. Do we really want her that close to the heart of things? If Joker knows your identities, I doubt he would have been willing to pass that on to Harley. We would have known tonight if she did. Can you imagine what would happen if she managed to get upstairs?" Kala had paled as she laid that out, looking almost ill.

Jay shrugged. "We could dump her and Ivy on a deserted island somewhere, but then Ivy'll take over the whole region in five years. Plant-Pirates of the Caribbean sounds like a shitty sequel, I don't wanna be responsible for that." And never mind that by letting them both go, he and Kala were responsible for whatever Harley and Ivy decided to do now. Hopefully the two of them would take their fresh start and run with it.

She closed her eyes briefly in a sigh, looking up at him with an uneasy look of apology. "There were no good choices. I couldn't see a way clear, Jay. I had to pick the best of some bad ones," Kala said sadly.

"_We_ had to pick the best of the bad ones," Jay pointed out. "I coulda stopped you. I coulda argued with you. Hell, _Babs_ coulda stopped us. You're fine, K. We did what we had to." It still hurt, somewhere deep in his chest, to watch her second-guess herself like this. Jay didn't like letting Harley go, either. Showing _mercy_ to anyone connected to the Joker was a fool's game, he knew that. It was worse seeing Kala try to take all of the blame on herself. What the hell had he done to Supergirl, anyway, that she had to make these kinds of calls?

His phone rang before he could follow that train of thought any deeper. Jay glanced at it, seeing a local number he didn't recognize, and answered warily. "Paulie's Psychic Pizza, that'll be twenty-four fifty, in thirty minutes."

Kala's reaction to that was priceless. That absolutely Super expression of fascinated horror, completely thrown by the unexpected change in dark-humored tone, and Jay just smirked at her. Yeah, that never got old. She'd missed the Stolen Lager brewery one, he'd have to tell her about it. In his ear, Selina's voice said, "Psychic pizza is pretty good. When I was in middle school, I answered the phone with 'Frank's Taxidermy, you snuff 'em we stuff 'em' one time. It was my grandmother, I got grounded for a week."

Jay chuckled and put her on speaker. "See, my go-to in middle school was 'Roadkill Cafe, you kill 'em we grill 'em'. Hey Selina, everything good at the house?" Despite the seriousness of their current situation, he fought another chuckle when he glanced over at his girl to see the way she'd wrinkled her nose at him disgustedly over the phone pranks.

"Yeah. The rest of the gang is on their way home to play babysitter, but I wanted to call and thank you before they confiscate my burner phone." She sounded resigned, but honestly grateful.

Jay raised an eyebrow, and Kala gave an eloquent shrug, but her eyes were shrewd. She was obviously thinking the same thing. "Thank me for what?" he asked.

Selina laughed softly. "If you don't know, I'm not telling you. But you _do_ know. Thank you both."

Somehow, she already knew about them letting Harley go. Jay wasn't entirely surprised. "Yeah, well, do whatever you can to make sure we don't regret it, all right?"

"I will. Keeping in touch is going to be difficult, but I may hear from them again. I'll pass that on." She sighed, sounding tired and stressed-out and almost defeated, not a tone Jay was used to hearing from the ever-insouciant Catwoman.

"They're gonna be all right," he told her.

"God, I hope so," Selina said. "They'll be gone in about two hours. I gotta go – I'm going to hide this phone before he gets home, because I don't need him tracking them down. I'll probably be on house arrest for a while, but you two _are_ coming back to main house soon, right?"

"Yeah, probably," Jay said. "I wouldn't miss the food. Better that we hunker down out here tonight, and see what he's gonna do."

Selina took a shaky breath. "Yeah, I'm _not_ looking forward to _that_."

Jay could only echo the sentiment, and Kala snuggled close to him at that, eyes on his. She spoke toward the receiver. "Selina, I've got an ear out. I'm paying as much attention as possible. I can be there in seconds. If it comes to it … I have a whole 'nother army I can rally. And considering the on-off partnership between them, no one can even guess my connection correctly."

"Sweetheart, I'm counting on it," Selina said. "B will _hate_ it, but sometimes you get by with a little help from your friends."

Kala's response was instant and firm, steadfast in her loyalty. "And sometimes Uncle Bruce just has to accept it. Especially in a situation like this. There really wasn't any other choice, not that would be the right one."

"He'll get over it," Selina said, with a trace of her usual cheer, and they signed off. Jay just hugged Kala, and she hugged him back.

"Well, Selina's covering our asses, too," Jay quipped.

"She would. They're her friends," Kala pointed out.

…

Joker stood at the end of the street, a mile away from his current hideout, and watched the red and white lights splashing the sides of nearby buildings. His men shuffled nervously behind him, waiting for an explosion.

He merely sighed. "Harley, Harley, Harley. My Harley-girl. What a pain in the ass you are."

Good ol' Jonny Frost was at his side, quietly awaiting orders. Frost was never surprised, and he never flinched from anything Joker asked him to do. Useful man to have around, Frost. Joker looked at him, and said calmly, "Guess we'd better move to a new location. Hope none of you boys left any keepsakes back there, 'cause it's all up in smoke." He chuckled to himself, subdued, and Frost followed him back to the van.

Joker paused, one hand on the rear door. "Say, Jonny-Jonny, who was supposed to stay behind and keep watch? You remember?"

"No sir," Frost replied, because Joker _hadn't_ told someone to keep watch. He'd needed a bunch of guys to pull off the school fire, with three separate starting locations that had to be _right_, and a precise trail of accelerant. He hadn't thought Harley would come out to send him a love-letter the same night.

Well, no mind. Someone had to answer for the lack. "Jonny? Your gun." Joker held out his hand, and Frost placed his revolver into it, grip first.

The very next second, its muzzle was pressed to his forehead. "Someone _should've_ been on watch. This is the kind of thing I expect a good lieutenant to do without being asked. We could've caught her tonight, if someone was standing guard."

"Understood, sir. It won't happen again." Frost spoke calmly; there was no fear in his eyes. The man was something like a high-functioning catatonic now, he had no startle reflex left, and he didn't feel anything much in the way of emotion. He just did what he was told, and never, _ever_ tried to double-cross the boss.

The rest of the men stepped aside, expecting Joker to agree that it wouldn't happen, and blow Frost's brains out in the middle of the street. Which was tempting, but it took too long to make a man like Frost. He'd had to be broken down to utter basics, shamed and terrified and shattered, to rebuild him into this. And Joker didn't have the time to pick apart anyone else's mind and snap off all the switches in their survival instinct.

So Joker simply asked, "Who would you have left on guard, if you'd done it right?"

"Basil and Pinky Joe," Frost said promptly. Good choices, actually, Pinky Joe was a twitchy nervous little rodent, but he made a good watchman. Paranoia was convenient that way. Problem was, he tended to spook at things that weren't there; he got his name by cutting off his pinky finger, claiming there was a government tracking device in it. Basil was steadier, a good balance for Pinky Joe, and a good enough fighter to slow Harley down.

"Hey man, what the _fuck_?!" Pinky Joe squeaked, and Joker shot him through the eyeball. He turned the gun on Basil next, and the big man's eyes went wide … but he didn't run.

"Don't let it happen again," Joker said to Basil, and grinned. The rest of them were damn near soiling themselves, and he got into the van laughing at their scared sheep-faces. "Drive, Jonny! I need to lay a trap for my lil' sweetheart. This is going to take time, and effort, and planning. But it'll be so worth it, to get her back and show the world what Harley's really made of." Joker sat down, leaning against the side of the van, and smiled beatifically. He'd been reading reports from the cartels down south, and figuring out ways to keep her alive as long as possible once he got his hands on his wandering Harley.

…

Harley woke up, her mouth dry and her head achy, but she'd been heavily sedated before. "Ohhh, Pammy, that was mean," she complained, trying to sit up. She was lying across the back seat of the big conversion van they'd acquired for this trip.

She reached for the back of the seat in front of her, and found her hands cuffed. "Pam?!" she yipped, quickly realizing her ankles were shackled, too.

"I'm not taking any more chances," Pam said from the driver's seat, looking back at her. "You can stay right there until we're at the airport."

"Aww, Pam, c'mon. You know I hate bondage if it's not fun," Harley wheedled, flopping back down. Both sets of cuffs were connected to a waist chain, which was locked into the seatbelt; Pam really wasn't taking any chances. Behind her, she heard a nervous chuckle from the hyenas, whose crates must be taking up most of the back.

"And I hate waking up to find you gone," Pam said sharply, and Harley winced. "Especially _now_."

"All right, that's fair," Harley sighed. Something occurred to her, and she scowled. "Aw, crap. I had a postcard I was gonna send to Floyd. Guess I'll get another."

"I found it last night, and dropped it in the mailbox on the way out," Pam told her. She still sounded grumpy, but with Harley not arguing, she was settling down.

"What a sweetheart! You think of everything," Harley said, chains jangling as she clasped her hands under her chin demurely.

"Someone has to," Pam told her.

Harley stretched, trying to get comfortable. Pam had left the chains longer than she should've, really – she had a little too much room to maneuver. If a jail guard had done it like this, Harley would've strangled them with the chains as a reminder to take her seriously. From Pam, it was a kindness. Harley put her feet up on the door, regarding the chains, and said, "Y'know what this reminds me of?"

"How much you miss Selina, I imagine," Pam said dryly.

She giggled at that. A lot of fond memories were being left behind in Gotham. "Hey, you miss her too. For different reasons, but still. Kitty's been a good friend."

"Yes, she has, and I _will_ miss her. But I'm much more glad to be leaving this miserable town, with you." Pam sounded almost melancholy about it though.

Harley had to reflect on the whole situation. Here she was, having finally left Joker for good, leaving town with her gorgeous and brilliant girlfriend, looking for a new adventure. Everybody she cared about was as safe as she could make them, and even the do-gooders were giving her the thumbs'-up to escape and start over someplace fresh. It was the ending she never expected, but the best of all possible outcomes. "Hey, Pammy, it's just you and me now," she said thoughtfully. "Well, and the boys. We're gonna do things right this time."

"At least we can try to do things differently," Pam said, and smiled at her.

"You never did tell me where we're going," Harley pointed out after a few minutes.

Pam's eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. "I'm not going to, either. At least not until we get to our first stop."

"First stop? We goin' on a tour or somethin'?" Harley asked, curious now.

Pam nodded. "Something like that. I'm going to visit an old friend, briefly, who can help us. And we need more than a million dollars to be secure, so I found someone who could use my special talents, and is willing to pay for them. They're fronting part of the cost of this trip – the price on our heads is too high for most people to overlook."

"Oooh, nice," Harley said, wondering. "Hey, Pam? Can I ask you somethin'?"

"You can ask, I may not answer," Pam told her.

"Wherever we're goin', is gay marriage legal there?"

Harley didn't know what reaction to expect from that question, but Pam swerving to the curb and slamming on the brakes wasn't it. She turned completely around in the driver's seat and stared at Harley, who just shrugged. "Are you _serious_?" Pam demanded.

"Well, yeah. I mean it's a consideration more than an actual proposal, y'know. Not exactly the most romantic circumstances. I'm kinda handcuffed right now and I gotta go ring-shopping an' all, but yeah, it's on my radar." Harley looked at her steadily, wanting her to know that for once, she wasn't joking.

Pam just stared for a long minute. "Harley … I love you. It hasn't even been two months since you left him."

"Point, but I'm finally right enough in the head to see what's good for me," Harley told her. "I let a lotta things slip past me. I'm not lettin' go of this."

The redhead rubbed a hand over her face. "You have a long and storied history of acting in haste and repenting at leisure. And I thought I'd be the one making the proposal, when the time came."

"Wait, you think you're the guy in this relationship?" Harley asked.

"There _is_ no guy in this relationship, that's rather the point," Pam told her, chuckling. "And Selina would tell you, if you don't know who the dominant party in your relationship is, it's not you."

"Oh, burn," Harley laughed, but she'd never been the one in charge of most things. Just because Pam wasn't over-the-top domineering (like certain exes) didn't mean she wasn't a natural leader, where Harley was a born follower.

"Give it time, Harley," Pam said, indulgently. "I don't know if it's legal there, I'll check, but since when have we cared about laws? All I care about is you."

"But you'll think about it?" Harley asked, raising her eyebrows.

Pam smiled. "Yes."

…

Bruce arrived home and immediately checked the Manor's security, going over the computers upstairs and downstairs, then physically checking each camera and sensor. Dick watched him doing it with a frown. There was something unsettlingly obsessive about his demeanor – and that was saying something, when Bruce was already fairly obsessive about security.

Donna had woken up when they got back, and she'd listened in to the debriefing from the night's events. Now she stood beside him. "I can stay, if you need me to," she offered.

Dick sighed. "You've got that gallery opening in National City. I don't want to make you late. Besides, Bruce is going full Bat on this, he's going to want everyone else out of town while Joker goes on a rampage."

She leaned her chin on his shoulder with a sigh. "Roy and Lian and Kala are staying."

"Roy and Lian are leaving in a couple days. Kala … Kala was trained here. Besides, if it gets too hot, Jay will try to run her off. He asked her to stay out when we had kryptonite coming in, and she did. K gets it, even if she doesn't necessarily like it."

"You Bats just don't like to share your rogues," Donna said, and it was a sad attempt at humor. Both of them knew why.

"Hey, you Amazons don't share yours much either. Mostly because you're out there fighting literal gods and we wouldn't survive that," Dick pointed out.

"Not always. And I know why you don't want anyone else crossing Joker," Donna told him, giving him a very serious look. "The only thing worse than Joker himself, would be something like us driven crazy by him."

Dick remembered seeing Kala shift, that first time she'd encountered Joker, the way the Clown's presence brought out her alter ego. He _never_ wanted something like that to happen to Donna. Too much had already happened to her, and it was a miracle she hadn't already fractured. The two women had different kinds of strength: Donna stood unbowed despite it all, Kala bent with the winds of madness and still managed to spring back to sanity.

"If this keeps on, Bruce will probably lock down the city," Dick admitted. "He's only waiting because Harley is supposed to be leaving today."

"How do you know that?" Donna asked, her brow furrowing.

"Selina's in touch with them," Dick said.

Donna looked thoughtful. "And once Joker realizes she's gone, what will he do then?"

Dick shook his head. "You can't outguess Joker. His motives change. But we're preparing for him to come after us, or Jay, or Selina. Or all of the above. He's done some very suspicious things lately, that make it seem like he might know Bruce's identity."

She stood up sharply at that, eyes wide. "Wait, you think your number-one nemesis knows who Bruce is – and probably knows all the rest of you, too – and you're _not_ running around crazy right now? If he _did_ know, wouldn't it be on every news channel and every billboard in town?"

At that, Dick could only shrug. "I would've thought so, too. I guess he's keeping it to himself for some reason."

Behind them, Selina spoke up, and they both whirled around. "It's no fun if _everyone_ knows. This is Schrodinger's blackmail. If you know that he knows, you worry constantly about when he'll go public with it. He can focus on something else, knowing that you're all going nuts with no effort from him."

"That sounds like Joker," Dick said, his hands balling into fists of their own accord.

"Now if only I wasn't worried over what the 'something else' he's focusing on was," Selina said ruefully. She was carrying a cat – the little fluffy one, Norway, who sprawled luxuriously in her arms and purred loudly.

"You think he's aimed at you?" Dick asked, his spine prickling at the thought.

"No, not really. I mean, he made a threat – but his major focus is Harley. He only wants me because I helped her." Selina shrugged. "And if he got hold of me, he thinks she'd try to come to my rescue. Which, I love her dearly, but I don't know if she'd do that. I don't think I'd want her to."

"This might be a good time for you to get out of town, too," Dick said gently.

Selina bared her teeth in a smile. "No one runs _me_ out of Gotham. This is _my_ town. Haven't you heard? Cats are territorial."

"Cats are also smart enough to run from a bigger predator," Donna put in.

That earned her a laugh. "Sweetheart, I can pull you up a dozen videos of cats chasing off dogs, bears, and even alligators. The first thing a street cat learns is _never_ run away. It only makes them chase you harder. If they don't see you, you can run like hell and get to safety, but once you're in their sights, running just marks you as prey. I'd rather stand my ground – besides, I've got a much better support network than Harley does. If I ever run from Joker, it'll be to lead him right into something bigger and meaner than him."

Dick smiled at her. "And there the metaphor breaks down, because even those giant fruit bats aren't much bigger than a cat."

Selina chuckled again. "Who said anything about the Bat? If I've gotta dive for cover, I'm going to head for Hood. Or one of our friendly local metas."

She grinned when she said it, but there was something brittle in her expression, and Dick figured at least some of what she was saying was pure feline bravado. "Hopefully it won't come to that," Dick tried to reassure, but he didn't think anything could completely dispel the shadow they were all under.

…

Kala ducked under the fist aimed at her fast, and administered three quick taps in rapid succession to her opponent's ribs. He caught her wrist on the third, put her in an elbow lock, and used his superior weight to tackle her to the mat. "One for me," Jay said, panting.

She squirmed, got her foot out from under him, and wrapped it around his leg. That was all the leverage she needed, with a touch of super-strength, to reverse their positions. Then she rolled out of the elbow lock and grabbed Jay's throat, pinning him to the ground as she straddled his waist. "Actually it's one for me," she said.

Jay scowled and sucker-punched her. The armor and the invulnerability took most of it, but it made her lose her grip, and Jay swarmed up her and onto his feet. Kala fell back, then darted in with a kick to his chest that planted him on the ground again. "Still me," she teased.

"Fucking asshole metas and your fucking powers," Jay growled, but he was grinning.

"Shut up and come on, you big baby," Kala shot back, her own grin just as fierce. "Quit fucking whining and _bring it_."

He did, charging her and feinting aside at the last minute. A quicksilver flash as he moved, and Kala just barely dodged the knife. She smacked his shoulder, holding back on the strength, and taunted, "Careful, you wanna make this a free-for-all, I'll steal your gun."

"Melee weapons only," Jay panted, his eyes bright. "And heat-vision counts as ranged. No searing your initials into my clothes."

Kala just laughed, and ran in again. At full power, no weapon could harm her, so she paid little attention to the knife. In fact, a fun challenge would be to take it from him. After all, she'd disarmed Harley with negligent ease earlier tonight.

They had _tried_ to go to bed after the fire, but both of them were too tuned-up to sleep. So Kala had suggested that now might be a good time for her trainer to check her progress, just as a refresher, which Jay was delighted to do. He seemed satisfied with her so far, both of them actually working up a sweat sparring in street clothes. At least they were _doing_ something, keeping themselves sharpened up for any confrontation Joker might provoke. And when this was over, they could sleep – no telling when they'd get another abrupt wake-up call like this afternoon's.

A handful of lunges and dodges later, Kala came in close to kiss Jay's cheek mid-battle. It always threw him off his rhythm, and maybe she could get a pin that he'd acknowledge. But when she drew back, she felt a sharp stinging sensation along her arm. "Ow, shit!" she yelped, stopping the fight to examine herself.

To her shock, her forearm had been laid open, blood spilling over as she watched.

"The _fuck_?" Jay snapped, and ran for the first aid kit. "What the hell, K, where'd your invulnerability go?"

"Like I fucking know," she called back, still staring at the spot in disbelief. No way should that have happened, not in these circumstances. The pain brought back memories of that night at the warehouse that had ended in stitches for the both of them. The long cut was already itching, though, and as she swiped the blood away, she felt the sting ebb and could see the skin starting to knit back together. "Never mind, it's healing up now."

Jay turned, looking stunned. "Fuck, that fast?"

Still mystified by whatever had just happened, she held up her arm, the skin closing without a scar as they watched. Something was very wrong here. Kala could feel how wide her eyes were as she looked up at him, could hear the unwilling fear snaking into her voice. "I sunned up on the way here, and I haven't used it too much. I'm at full power. Healing factor's good."

"So what the hell happened to your invulnerability? You're not bruised anywhere, are you?" Jay moved in close, tugging her shirt up to examine her belly where he'd hit her moments ago.

Frowning, she considered. "Nothing else hurt, just that," she told him before a sudden thought occurred to her. "Wait, I didn't feel anything until you slashed at me. But your knife's never bothered me before; you would have told me if you had run across any kryptonite in the last month, right? I don't think that it would leech into the metal, even then." It was a extreme long-shot, but the only one that even made the slightest sense to her.

"No," Jay said, but he drew it again, looking at it suspiciously. Of course it was his favorite knife, the wavy-bladed kris with the ornate handle, and Kala looked at it carefully with every enhanced type of vision she had.

Steel blade, carved wooden handle, nothing special. No glow of kryptonite radiation, and her powers were all intact. Despite knowing better, Kala made herself gingerly touch the point, jerking her hand back immediately at the sting. No, she didn't like this at all. "Ow! Fuck, Jay, it's that knife! This is gonna sound stupid, but has it ever been exposed to … _magic_ or something?"

"Oh, shit," Jay murmured, and sheathed the kris. "Fuck, it probably is some kind of supernatural bullshit."

That immediately raised her hackles. Seriously? What the hell did that mean? "What do you mean, _some_ kind? You know where it came from, right? You're not out there buying blades from secondhand magic shops or anything, are you?" Kala challenged, pressing the tips of her fingers together to get rid of the itchy healing sensation from the one she'd just pricked.

Jay sighed. "Yeah, I know where it came from. And I shoulda fuckin' known. It holds an edge like nothing else I've ever had, and it'll cut damn near anything. Shit… Come to think, it shouldn't have been able to cut your panties off. Your invulnerability shoulda covered that."

Kala crossed her arms and stared at him, brow furrowed. There was a sick feeling in her guts just thinking about what this could mean. "You're right. That's the only reason our uniforms don't get destroyed, the effect of invulnerability extends out a slight distance from the skin. Huh. So, great, you have a supernatural knife that cuts Kryptonians. How many more of them could there be?"

"Too many," Jay said, looking sheepish.

Oh, she really, _really_ didn't like that. Beginning to sense fuckery, Kala raised an eyebrow. "Where'd you get that knife, Jay?"

"It's _useful_," he said, sounding defensive. "Look, this is a League of Shadows blade. God only knows how they treat their weapons."

Kala stared at him for a full minute in absolute silence. And then, flatly, "Talia gave you the knife."

"Yeah," Jay said, wincing.

Oh God, that was the answer she had been dreading. And it did nothing at all to quash the wild thoughts of nightmare scenarios running through her mind. What the hell had he been thinking? _Had_ he been thinking? _Sonofabitch_. She took a deep breath, slowly letting it out through her nose, a sound that would've sent any of her mother's or aunt's friends running in terror. The signs of a Lane woman losing her temper were not subtle. "Jason Peter Todd. You cut my underwear off – more than once – with a knife your ex gave you."

He looked desperate to salvage the situation somehow. "Hey, you're good with Donna now…"

If looks could kill… "I'm _not_ cool with _that_ one," Kala said sharply. "Talia tied too many goddamned strings in place for me to ever be okay with her. And you might think you've cut most of them, but from what I hear about her, she's too good at this. I really don't need to find out, at this late date, that your favorite knife turns out to be a gift from your ex-lover."

"Hey, I _told_ you she gave me the kris," Jay said, and then shut his mouth with a snap. He remembered at the same time she did, that whole long scotch-fueled, secret-laden talk months ago. So many of the heaviest burdens he carried had come to light that night, and Kala had picked up every one of them willingly. Jay was worth it, all of it.

Sometimes, though, he drove her half-crazy. Kala gave a bitter laugh. "Yeah, yeah you did. And I had no idea at the time what a kris even _was_. I wasn't exactly up to asking detailed questions in the same fucking conversation where we talked about the Lazarus Pit and how it healed the scars Joker left on your _face_. Sue me if I didn't put two and two together until now."

Jay rubbed a hand through his hair, looking sickened. "Fuck, for all I know that's a League of Shadows tradition, everyone gets a fancy knife when they graduate murder college."

_Deep breaths, deep cleansing breaths … fuck it. _ "Pretty sure they don't all get to commemorate the occasion by fucking their graduate adviser," Kala shot back, hearing the growl in her own voice.

That seemed to hit him where he lived, his eyes growing stormy now. "She'd be a whole lot busier if they did," Jay snapped. "Look, I never thought of it that way! I woke up the next morning, the knife was there and she wasn't. I never got a chance to fucking ask for the specs on the damn thing, I started making plans to kill Bruce and Joker the next goddamn day!"

Unable to help herself, Kala struck out again, anger and confusion and a vein of deep, dark fear making her hit him back. "None of that changes the fact that you've been cutting my underwear off with a fucking 'congratulations on the sex' gift," Kala insisted, stepping into his space. "What does that say to me, Jay? With _her_ fucking knife. Did you do that with that treacherous snake, too?" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself. God, she could kill him.

"Oh what the hell, I thought we were over this after Donna," Jay said, exasperated. "No, I didn't do that with Talia, 'cause drawing a knife in her vicinity gets you _shot_. Why're you worried about Talia anyway? I was a fucking science project gone wrong to her. You saw the notes – 'what curse have I unleashed', blah blah melodrama."

"That's bullshit and you know it," Kala said, her temper redlining. She'd _hated _the tone of that goddamn file of hers – and Jay was being entirely too flippant about the whole thing. Like she was an idiot who couldn't read between the wide-ass fucking lines. Bullshit on that. She poked him in the chest. "Besides, it doesn't matter what you were to her. _She_ was a whole lot more than a convenient lay to _you_. And if you think that, you're lying to yourself, Red."

She could _see_ his shoulders tensing, and Jay lowered his head defensively. "I was dumb as hell at eighteen, but I wasn't _that_ dumb. And _you're_ fucking deflecting, you're all creeped out 'cause we let Harley go and Joker might know who all of us are, and now for all we know the whole goddamn League of Shadows might be packing knives that can cut Kryptonians."

Being called out – and not entirely untruthfully, though her concerns about Talia al Ghul were longstanding – by the king of deflection himself set Kala's rattled nerves on a terminal edge. "Oh, fuck off, Red. Deflect _this_," she spat, and lunged.

…

The next five minutes seriously strained every ounce of training and ability Jay had. He _didn't_ draw the kris on her again; with his luck, Kala undoubtedly would melt the thing, and it _was_ a seriously fucking useful piece of equipment. Even more so now that he knew it had supernatural attributes. If he ever had to run up against magical bullshit, he had at least one weapon for that situation.

Kala went on the offensive, and Jay pulled out every trick he had, the manriki chain and the gun and every feint he knew. One thing was clear, she was getting better at fighting angry; Kala made a lot fewer mistakes. And she didn't even have to hover this time, she stayed grounded and _still_ drove him back and forth across the mats like a dog herding sheep.

_Something_ was gnawing at her since he'd cut her, though. Something that probably had nothing to do with the knife or how he'd actually gotten it. They hadn't mentioned Talia in months – Jay would've expected her to be worried about the Joker, especially now. Maybe that was what was bothering her. Maybe it was something else entirely. Whatever the case, he wasn't going to get an answer out of her until he landed a hit on her.

Jay let her back him toward the wall with the weapons rack, and pulled his gun again. Three shots in, she grabbed it by the barrel and turned to fling it across the length of his practice room. Jay took that gap in attention and flying tackled her. Inelegant, no fancy moves, he just swarmed over her and grabbed on so she couldn't pry him off without powers.

"Goddammit, Jay, get _off_," Kala hissed, bucking and twisting – at human levels of strength only. Even now, furious, she was keeping her control in that. "You fucking irritating pain-in-the-ass…"

"Such sweet pet names we've got for each other," he grunted, and clung like a koala.

Immediately she fought against his grip. "We don't _have_ pet names, you asshole! We don't let ourselves go there!" There was a glimmer of hurt beneath the anger, some of which came from her blurting more than she'd clearly intended.

"Oh yeah? What's up with Red and Robin, huh? Or Princess? Or how about Solar-Powered Snuggie? It's accurate," Jay shot back.

That had her baring her teeth in a furious snarl, but the broken shine stayed. "Don't you fucking dare. If you _ever_ call me a solar-powered snuggie, I will seriously puke on you. Besides, like you have any goddamn room to talk, Mr. Drag-Me-Across-The-Bed-in-Your Sleep," Kala snapped, still struggling under him.

Jay smushed her against the floor. "That's my number-one threat now. I'm gonna go make an account on Capespotting with that for the user name and post all over the Blur page. Unless you start talking about what's _really_ bothering you. It can't be Talia, she's old news and you've pretty much outclassed her in every way possible."

That must have struck a little closer than he'd even expected. Her elbow caught him in the jaw, and Jay had to let go, seeing stars. "_Bullshit!_"

"Not bullshit," Jay managed to say, rubbing his face.

She stood over him, radiating hurt and anger. "You tryin' to tell me if I hadn't been here, and she showed up in Gotham and said to you, 'Come with me,' you would've had the balls to say no?"

Jay looked up at her, tasting blood from a loosened tooth, but even so Kala had held back. Nothing was fractured. "Yeah, but that's if you hadn't been here. C'mon, K. You're _here_ in the morning – she never was. Even when you have to leave, you text me. You get pissed off if I even imply you're trying to change me – she always had an agenda."

Kala stood still, panting, and he knew she was at least thinking now, instead of just reacting. Jay gave a crooked smile. "Also, you can cook. The woman only owns a tea kettle and a espresso machine, she doesn't have a single pot or pan in any of her safehouses."

She scoffed, still pissed, but she hadn't shoved him across the room yet, and he knew she could. Maybe he'd gotten through that time. "Cute. And what happens if I'm not here? What then, Jay?"

He shrugged. "Too late, you've _been_ here, things have changed. I'm not the same person I was a year ago. Neither are you, and I just hope you like who you are now, 'cause I damn sure do."

Kala scowled up at him and he finally saw it. So _that's_ what it was. She was mad as hell, true, but now he was seeing that it was more likely anger rooted in fear. If she'd really been furious, he'd be in the hospital. And if she was really terrified, he'd be talking to the Empress and that would have been a whole other DEFCON situation. So she was caught between the two, a state of mind he'd lived in for far too long. Finally, Kala whispered, "I don't trust anything about her. She scares me, Jay."

He sat up. "That's not all that's scaring you. Talk to me, Kala."

She huffed, looking away, but then swung back to meet his gaze. "Oh, I don't know. Ever since my powers kicked in, all I've really worried about is kryptonite. Now I find out there's God only knows how many blades out there that can cut right through my invulnerability. And one of them's been under your pillow every night, cutting off my goddamn underwear on occasion. That's not a reason to be upset?"

"Kryptonians are vulnerable to magic. You knew that. You weren't this upset on the sunlight diet, when you were vulnerable to everything," Jay pointed out.

"That was gradual," she snapped, crossing her arms defensively.

"Yeah, well, the only people in Gotham who might have these blades are me and Bruce, and neither of us is gonna use 'em. Hell, the only reason I'd draw for real is to protect you," Jay said.

Kala whirled on him then, her eyes furious. "_I'm_ supposed to be the one protecting _you_. Joker already killed you once, he doesn't get to so much as _breathe_ in your direction if I have any say in it!"

_There_ it was, and Jay could've kicked himself. He knew Kala was backing him up, but he hadn't really thought about her being _this_ protective of him. "K, come here," he said, and held his hands out.

Frowning, she went to him, and he took her hands, drawing her down into his lap and hugging her. "Joker's not gonna kill me. I'm not a scared, jumped-up kid anymore. We faced him together, remember? And the _next_ time we see him, I'm gonna stick this knife in his eye and give that diseased brain a good stir."

Kala wrapped her arms around him, trembling a little with that uneasy mix of anger and worry. She tucked her nose into his neck, and murmured, "I shouldn't have said anything."

Jay rubbed her spine. "You don't normally fly off the handle outta nowhere, Kala. It's fine. You're good. Hell, I can't blame you for wanting to protect me."

She took a deep breath, and leaned back to look into his eyes. "I still don't trust Talia."

Scoffing, Jay replied, "Well fuck, neither do I!" And that, finally, made Kala relax enough to laugh.

She leaned into him and murmured, "I'm sorry, Jay. Sorry I yelled at you, _not_ sorry about being pissed about Talia."

"Can't blame you," Jay said. "For what it's worth, I'm sure she'd be pissed about you, so it's mutual."

Kala wrinkled her nose at him for that. "What?"

"You're a _Super_. You're not just a good girl, you're _the_ good girl." In that context, the thought amused him to no end. And of course, she'd argue it.

Which he absolutely called, Kala speaking up almost the moment the words crossed his lips. "No, that's Donna," Kala pointed out crossly.

"And Talia would roll her eyes about that, too. But you? C'mon, K. You're Superman's daughter. You're a whole new definition of 'outta my league'. And you're probably one of a handful of people on the planet who could successfully kick Talia's ass, magic sword or not. All that, and you're actually _good_ for me, not using me for something." Jay caught himself before he could get too serious.

Biting her lip, Kala just said, "Thought we were past the 'Superman's daughter' thing. I'm not even close to perfect. And you give me too much credit, Jay."

"Nah, you don't give yourself enough," Jay told her. And then, trying to deflect from the solemnity of the moment, he added, "Besides, if she found a rat in my apartment, she'd call in an airstrike. You're the only woman I know quirky enough to give the damn thing a bath and put it in a cage."

Finally she gave him a little smile, the first sunlight peeking out at dawn, and didn't have an argument for that. The relief was so strong, Jay just caught her thighs, scooped her up without warning, and started carrying her toward the elevator. Kala was so startled, she could only stare at him in shock for a moment before she gave a surprised laugh, that musical sound clearing the air between them. Equilibrium restored, Jay grinned and told her, "That's all the fighting I need for one day. Let's get some rest, Princess."

Much to his continued relief, she flashed him a tired smile and just leaned into him, arms curling around his neck. The tension seemed to drain away at last, Kala letting out a long sigh. "Fine, be that way, Big Bad," she murmured back, nestling her face against his neck.


	35. As in Olden Days

**Authors' Note:** Well, coauthor Lois is still furloughed until at least the 13th of June. At least she's finally getting unemployment - six weeks after she was first eligible for it. Ah, Florida. Coauthor Anissa has no firm date to return to business as usual. Her job appears to be continuing the alternating shifts through the months of June. We also both went and donated blood today. By the next chapter update, we should know if the wicked colds we had the first week of March were actually COVID-19.

* * *

Jay woke up to the damn phone chirping at him again. He glowered, looking at the window; the sun was low already. Fucking Gotham winters. He and Kala had been physically and emotionally worn out after their sparring session turned confessional, so they'd gone back to bed. Now it was late afternoon. The days got too damn short, this time of year, and the nights way too long.

At least he was warm; Kala had half-burrowed under him, and half-pulled him over her, so he almost felt like _he_ was the one being used as a Snuggie. Jay chuckled, remembering that argument last night. Solar-powered Snuggie, of all the things to call a Kryptonian.

Still, he took a moment to kiss her shoulder. Kala usually wanted him wrapped around her like this when she'd had a hard day, and last night to this morning certainly counted. Grabbing the phone, he noticed it was another number he didn't recognize, and answered it with a growl. "Gotham City Morgue; you stab 'em, we slab 'em."

Babs sounded as dry as ever, even without the encryption. "Black humor, and you still sound half asleep? This bodes ill for everyone."

"Black humor is the only kind on tap. What's on the schedule tonight?" Jay asked.

"Rounds are suspended," she told him, and Jay sat all the way up at that, Kala giving a startled sound at being unexpectedly jostled awake. But after a moment, looking bleary-eyed and a little frazzled, she was upright and listening in with a frown. "Come on in, as soon as you can. We need a general debrief."

"Shit, I do _not_ like waking up like this," Jay grumbled, but he did get out of bed.

"At least it's a little less urgent than the last couple times," Babs offered, and broke the connection.

Before he was even off the phone, Kala was up and moving, wide awake even in such a short time. That she could do that was almost a separate superpower. "Dare I even ask how bad?" she asked, grabbing clean clothes from his drawer and putting them on. She was out of shirts – here, at least – and stole another of his. The stuff she had for the week was still stashed in her luggage back at the Manor.

"No telling, but if it's not urgent, it can't be _that_ bad," Jay said philosophically, getting dressed in street clothes. "At least by now, Harley and Ivy are definitely gone. Been hours since their flight. Hopefully half-across the country, or out of it. One less problem for the two of us to worry about."

That earned him knowing look, both hope and a little worry there. After last night, they had to let it go. It would be what it would be, at this point. They both knew that. She gave him what was clearly a shrug of forced nonchalance before she looked away to shimmy into her jeans, quickly pulling on her boots. "Here's hoping they can both manage to steer clear of trouble, for everyone's sake."

Jay grabbed her coat and his from near the door. "Yeah, me too. Let's fly, Supergirl."

This flight felt utilitarian, none of the showy speed she so clearly enjoyed. Kala took them up first, clear of the city, and then over and down, landing at the front doors. A moment later they were all gathered in one of the parlors, and Bruce pressed a button that made a huge painting slide sideways, revealing a monitor.

The green mask of Oracle showed up, and Babs' digitized voice came through to them. "Everyone present and accounted for?" she asked.

Jay glanced around; Bruce, Selina, Dick, Tim, Donna, himself and Kala, even Alfred. The only ones missing were Helena, Dinah, Roy, and Lian. Bruce answered the question, "Yes, assuming Canary, Huntress, and Arsenal plus one are with you."

"They are. Given what we now know, I'm going to have them remain here. It's slightly more secure at the moment," Babs said.

"Well hell, what happened now?" Jay asked, and hoped Ivy and Harley hadn't been apprehended. At least they knew Selina hadn't snuck out. She was standing close to Bruce with Miss Kitty in her arms, petting the cat worriedly. Kala leaned against Jay's shoulder, listening, those amazing eyes of hers troubled.

Babs' response was quick, though it sounded reluctant. "We ran the data on the fire. The official channels will take a few days to come to the same conclusion, but it's clear to us. The fires started in three classrooms: Mrs. Seebol, Ms. Harlow, and Mrs. Petersen."

Everyone startled at that, but Jay's own reaction was the strongest. The part of him that he once thought had really died – the boy who'd become Robin, bright with hope – now sprang up in wrath. How dare he! How _dare_ that murdering fucking clown start taking shots like this! Joker might as well have danced on a younger Jay's grave, and it made him want to throttle the fucker right now, consequences be damned. Nothing was safe, nothing was sacred. It wasn't enough to murder Robin, Joker had to go take a potshot at young Jason Todd, too. No part of his life was untainted.

"_Fuck!_" Jay snarled, startling half the room. "Goddammit, Ms. Harlow was my favorite teacher! I had her for home room my last year, and English Lit the year before. She's gonna be heartbroken, she always had students' poems and stuff tacked up to the supply closet." Kala didn't say a word, but he felt her catch his hand in a reassuring grip, watching him worriedly.

"Mrs. Petersen was _my_ homeroom teacher for senior year," Dick said, his voice rough.

Babs continued grimly. "It's obviously not random. Those classrooms weren't the logical starting points to create the letters he wanted to spell out. Ms. Harlow is in the very tip of the plus sign – if he was just going for the aerial view, he would've started that fire in the center of it. They were chosen deliberately, to send a message."

"He knows. Joker fucking knows all of us," Jay said hollowly.

"He knows the immediate family," Babs corrected. "He does _not_ know any of our friends from outside the city. And we're _keeping_ it that way. No one among the general public knows who exactly is visiting us for the holidays. Everyone else should be safe. He's _our_ problem."

"Just like he always was," Jay said.

Bruce sounded stoic as ever. "What's the status on our guests?"

"I'm leaving in three hours," Donna said, glancing at Dick.

"Arsenal was planning to stay until January fourth. He's staying with me until his flight leaves," Babs added. "He also has an invite to the gala. Which begs the question: are we attending?"

At that, Jay saw Kala tilt her head, but didn't wonder why. "What gala? There's a gala this week?" she asked with real curiosity.

Everyone looked at Jay like it was _his_ fault somehow. He shrugged, and Bruce answered for him. "The Wayne Enterprises Holiday Masquerade Ball, tomorrow night. It's another major event benefiting charity that's done every year. All of us normally go. Jay didn't tell you?"

"Jay hasn't had time," Jay shot back. "Been a little busy since she flew in. Also, not like I went last year. No one gave _me_ an invitation."

Bruce looked at him steadily. "You're family. You're invited. But you're right, we should've communicated better."

"It's fine. At this point, bad communication is a given and almost a tradition. See Jay's birthday," Kala said with a cheeky little grin, arching a brow at him, and he elbowed her. All things considered, he knew she wasn't really up to jokes yet, but for them, she was trying. Give Kala credit for taking a shot at levity, with the situation what it was.

"Maybe we should delay it," Dick said thoughtfully, sidestepping that whole deal.

"And let Joker know we're scared?" Selina cut in. "If we delay it, people will wonder why. There's no plausible reason for the Wayne family to be worried about Joker."

"The sheer logistics of delaying it at this short notice would be difficult," Babs said. "The venue's already secured, caterers are prepping … it would be newsworthy, if we tried to change it."

"I just don't wanna be the mayor from _Jaws_," Dick said.

"Changing the date won't change the threat, either," Bruce put in. "He wanted us to know that he knows, right before the event. We'll let the gala go ahead, but we should consider whether or not to attend. If this is aimed at us, he may want us to cancel our appearance there."

"Also newsworthy, but everyone knows how eccentric the Waynes are," Babs said.

"What would be Joker's angle in trying something at the gala?" Tim asked, his brow furrowed as he chased down possibilities.

"Take a potshot at all of us? Force us to reveal our identities?" Jay hazarded.

Selina shook her head. "I doubt it. I was just telling Dick and Donna this last night – Joker has more fun if he can dangle it over your heads. If he just _tells_ someone, or forces you to tell people, then the cat's out of the bag and everyone knows. Right now, only he and the family know. But you're all worried about what he'll do."

Bruce rubbed his chin, and Jay noticed he looked a little stubbly. Late nights and early mornings, not enough time to properly sleep, and he started to look rough. Finally, Bruce said, "That might be his purpose. Frighten us into staying home from the gala, and then arrive _here_."

"And maybe set the house on fire. He's liking arson lately," Tim said with a scowl.

"On that note, I'm calling in some favors," Selina said. "If Joker might come here, the cats have to move. I won't have them in his line of fire."

"Where else are you gonna put thirty-something cats, Selina?" Jay asked.

She smiled at him. "You own your whole building, don't you?"

That provoked a burst of sudden laughter from Kala, who glanced at him with dancing eyes. His girl knew all too well how that was going to be received. "Oh God, here we go."

Jay just groaned. "Aw, _fuck_. Come the fuck on, Selina! I'm not set up to babysit for the whole goddamn horde!"

"A group of cats is called a clowder. I'd owe you for it. And I always pay my debts." Selina arched a brow.

Jay remembered how much smoother things with the kids had gone, with her connections. Plus there was something to be said for having the most infamous thief in the world on retainer. And most importantly, he had to admit that he couldn't let that little fluffball Norway be in any danger whatsoever. "Deal. But you owe me _big_, Selina. Steal the Declaration of Independence kinda big."

Kala elbowed him, leaning away slightly to give him an irresistible scolding look. For a few seconds, he could forget about the sobering situation that they were all finding themselves in just with a teasingly exasperated little smirk of hers. "It's thirty cats on one floor of your multi-floor, almost completely unused building. Stop pouting, Red. We can handle it for a few days, as long as Selina can negotiate with them like she did here. It'll be fine."

Selina, however, just chuckled. "I could have the Declaration here in a week. No, wait, New Year's is a holiday. Eight days."

"I don't want the Declaration. I'm just saying, don't think you can swipe me a Snickers bar and call it good," Jay warned.

Bruce cleared his throat. "So you're just going to negotiate criminal activities right in front of me?" he asked, his expression more amused than anything else.

Jay looked at him, nonplussed, and Babs spoke up. "Talia called him to negotiate the kryptonite bust. Why not? If it's legally wrong and morally right, Jay's the go-to."

Selina smirked with a ghost of her usual humor. "Making deals with Daddy-Bats' significant others. Next thing you know, Jay, you'll have a Super for a best friend and backup … oh, wait. Already kinda covered that."

"Back on task," Bruce said graciously. "Postponing the gala leads to too many questions. The point here is deciding whether to attend the gala. I don't expect Joker to show up there, for one main reason: he doesn't know Harley has left town. He wouldn't want to land in Arkham while she's still free."

"So do we go, or stay, or split the team?" Dick asked. "It's a public event. We have to be careful who stays, and who goes."

"First principles: what does Joker want?" Bruce asked aloud.

"He wants Harley," Babs said. "And this is Joker, so he has fallbacks on fallbacks. If he can't get Harley, he'll take Selina – or Hood. Now, what would he do, knowing about the gala and knowing about us?"

Donna cleared her throat. "I'm not in the business of predicting madmen. But the _smart_ thing for sane people to do would be not to attend the big public event."

Babs chuckled dryly. "Yes, but Joker is intelligent. He knows that's the smart move. Would he expect us to do that? Or would he know that we know that he knows that's the sensible notion, and expect us to do the opposite?"

Bruce crossed his arms. "We can chase that circular logic all night, and it won't matter. There are only six possibilities to consider. Joker does not know which building Jay is in, or where you're based, Oracle. So it's us, him, and the house or the gala. He has no element of surprise, we're going to expect him somewhere. If we're at the gala and Joker goes there, he could force us to reveal ourselves. I tend to agree with Selina, I think it's unlikely. If we're not at the gala and he goes there, it has no more value than any other public event."

"Sounds like he probably wouldn't go to the gala, then," Roy mused.

Nodding, Bruce continued, "If we're at the house and Joker comes here, he can try to take us, reserving his knowledge of our identities to torment us with. If we're at the gala and he comes here, he can burn down the Manor – and he'll expect Selina's cats to be here. Since her relationship with Bruce Wayne is common knowledge, this is the logical place for her, and them, to be."

"Which is why Hood has so graciously chosen to babysit," Selina said, with another smirk at Jay. He just shook his head.

Bruce continued, "The last two possibilities involve splitting the team. If we split up, and he goes to the gala, he can deal with reduced numbers, but he knows we have at least one member of the team who is very fast and may be able to cover both locations. If we split the team, and he comes here, it's the same reduced-numbers situation."

Tim mused aloud, "The advantages of coming to the house are mainly that he can choose who witnesses the conflict, so he can keep his knowledge secret. And that he doesn't have to deal with law enforcement or civilian interference."

Jay sighed, because he had to be the bloody-minded one as usual. "This place is practically a fortress. If I was Joker, and I thought we were all too righteous to be as smart as me, I'd think we would have to split the team. And he doesn't have a lot of respect for Selina. He'd think she would want to stay here, with the Manor's security. We all know he likes spectacle. If he wants a chance at Selina, letting us know that he knows who we are would make us split up, and then he'd come at the house. There's no such thing as impenetrable security, after all."

"Well, that settles it, I'll be your plus-one at the gala," Selina said, trying to keep her tone light and failing to hide the brittle note in it.

"So we _all_ go to the gala," Bruce said, his eyes alight. "Get the cats out of the house, send Alfred to Leslie's, and fully automate the security systems. Rig the entire house for knockout gas. And then just wait. He'll _know_ we're all on the guest list at the gala, so he'll come here expecting to find just Selina and Alfred."

"Turn the whole place into a trap, and once it's sprung, we can slip out of the gala and come in with gas masks to round him and his boys up," Dick said, sounding excited. "We could actually catch him without even _being_ here."

"If we guess wrong, and he does come to the gala, we need a plan for slipping out," Jay said. "Venue blueprints, escape routes, all that."

"Roy and Lian should sit this one out." That was Dinah's voice, picked up by Babs' microphone. Roy was too far away to hear clearly, but even muffled, the tone of protest was plain.

"I'll second that," Babs said. "Sorry, Roy, you're officially a hereditary Bird of Prey, and I'm calling my flock home. It's not just for Lian, it's for me – I don't mind a little extra security. We have no evidence that Joker knows where I am, or that Batgirl became Oracle, but in his case, paranoia is prudent."

"Plus, having you guys over there gives us a backup team he _can't_ anticipate," Jay pointed out. He privately thought this was Babs just soothing Roy's ego to keep him out of the fray. All of them were territorial like that, and Jay couldn't help sharing the feeling. With Lian to consider, Roy had to stay safe. Roy grumbled about it, but acquiesced.

Dick was the next to speak up. "Well, there goes _my_ plan. I was going to invite Dinah to the party as my date."

K had fallen silent again, just taking in the plans as they built until then, but she burst out laughing at that along with most of the rest. "God forbid Dick Grayson goes to a party without a date," she added with the sunshine smile finally back in force, still chortling. Despite everything else going on, that was a joy to see again, especially right now.

Jay could see that statement for another moment of levity they all needed, but it also made some tactical sense. "Geez, Dick, ask out your ex's girlfriend on your ex's phone call. Real smooth. Gotta say, I wouldn't mind having another ass-kicking specialist at the party."

Dick just shrugged. "What can I say? I do love a woman in uniform."

Dinah leaned toward the mic, and said, "Sure, I'll play cougar. I was going to try and get myself invited anyway. With Roy and Helena here, Babs has backup, but I can be her eyes and ears on-scene."

"You're not old enough to be a cougar," Dick protested.

"Flatterer," Dinah laughed.

"Wear something blue, she'll pick you up at eight," Babs quipped. "Jay, are you and Kala going, or holing up in the bunker?"

He'd been pondering that since this began. "With Kala's speed, it doesn't matter where we are – we still have the fastest response time," he said. "So why miss a chance to dance with my girl?"

The smile he got for that was slow and warm and playful. Thank God for exasperated amusement and her sense of humor. If it had been Donna back in the day, she would have swatted him. "Does that mean you're actually asking me, Mr. Todd? Seeing as how I'm completely unprepared and I don't even have a dress for this."

"Wear the birthday-present dress; it's still back at my place," Jay suggested with a shrug. Somehow the two of them were the bright point in all this, right alongside Dickie-Bird. Might as well roll with it, even if he couldn't figure out when they'd become the comic relief. "And yeah, I'm asking you. Wanna go to the gala with me? Eat a bunch of fancy hors d'ouvres, dance the night away, maybe kick a clown's ass?"

Her eyes sparkled. "When you propose it like that, how could I _possibly_ resist? I can't imagine a more romantic evening."

Everyone was amused by that, and Jay just shrugged. "It's a masquerade anyway. No one knows you're gonna be there – hell, no one knows for sure _I'm_ gonna be there, but it's a good guess. On the civilian side, there's no record of you even coming to Gotham."

"So I get the great honor of being your completely anonymous arm-candy. Got it," Kala said teasingly before sounding a little more practical. "I mean, it should be perfectly fine. I've only gone out in public with you here twice, and never dropped my name either time – never got spotted by paparazzi even when not masked, either. It should be safe. Now for the most important question we haven't discussed, are we sure _Alfred_ is going to be okay?"

She turned toward him when she asked, and the butler smiled. "I do hate to impose on Dr. Tompkins, but very few people are aware of our relationship. She is not known to be involved with super-heroic situations, as well. I ought to be safe."

"Then we need to get started planning and rigging the house for sedative gas," Bruce said.

"And _I_ need to start rounding up my darlings," Selina said, patting Jay's arm. "Where do you want me to put them?"

"Hell, none of the floors of that building are furnished or occupied. We can put them anywhere. I think the tenth floor is the most open." Jay had never had to think about housing a slew of animals; he found himself unprepared for it.

"We're going to need some furnishings for them," Selina said. "You can't just dump thirty mostly-unrelated cats into an empty space, no matter how big it is. They'll pick fights. If they have cat trees or boxes to hide in, they can avoid conflict."

Kala sighed. "And we don't want to go to the store and buy a dozen cat trees. Might as well send up a flag saying 'Catwoman was here'. I guess I'm on requisition duty, since I can fly."

"I'll help you with that," Donna said. "I'm not quite as fast, but I can make some local purchases. And you'll need a hand moving all the cats."

"Yeah, no stealing an SUV this time," Jay said archly, looking at Selina.

She just smiled. "I'm sure Bruce will let me borrow a vehicle. Right, handsome?"

Bruce only sighed. "Jay, I'll need your help here. We're going to have rig additional sensors. I'll have some of the gas on automatic dispersal, and some of it controlled remotely by a hard-encrypted device."

Jay saw the writing on the wall, and pulled out his keys, handing them to Kala. "The master key is on there. Go be a cat-wrangler."

She smiled brilliantly, and he remembered the times over the summer when he'd insisted on being the one to lock up the bunker when they were finished. Jay's training had left him with a strong imperative to trust only himself with anything critical – but hell, if he couldn't trust Kala, who _could_ he trust? His building was objectively more secure with her there and all the doors open, than it would be locked up tightly. "You sure?" Kala asked, giving him an assessing look.

She knew what that trust meant from him, and she didn't judge him for being a paranoid asshole. Jay didn't have the words to tell her how much it meant to him, so he made a joke instead. "Yeah, I'm sure. Just don't put up wallpaper or anything."

"Not really my style," Kala chuckled, and took the keys. He figured she got the gist, anyway.

…

When she had left to visit Dick for the holiday, this had not been even _close_ to an activity Donna had been expecting to be involved in. Then again, life had a way of being wholly unpredictable, usually even more so than usual in her case. That thought in mind, Donna stopped in the middle of putting together the fourth cat tree, and looked at Kala. "This is kinda weird, isn't it?"

Her partner in the current task gave a soft snort of amusement at that. "I gotta say, not how I thought I'd be spending the evening, but honestly, not the weirdest assignment I've been on." Kala smirked at her; she'd gone all out, and brought back an enormous adjustable cat tree that reached the ceiling. Currently she was installing the top platform, nonchalantly hovering a couple feet off the ground.

"I'm kinda of worried to ask what the weirdest was," Donna said.

Glancing for at her, Kala laughed softly. "Oh, it's harmless and cute. The weirdest of all was the one where I went back in time with the Legion to do them a favor, and we happened to be at the same date as Dad's first interview with Mom. I got to see my parents a couple years before I was thought of, being adorably sweet and flirty. It's so weird to see your parents that young, and they were absolutely giving me cavities with the cute."

"According to the JLA, they still give everyone cavities," Donna laughed.

Kala snickered again. "That said, the most recent weird mission was that, to establish Blur's presence in Gotham, Bruce sent me after a pickpocket. Who turned out to actually be Tim in disguise. The absolute most awkward thing I've ever done in my life. And, honestly, that's saying something."

It was such an honest reply that it took Donna by surprise. She hadn't expected this much honesty from Kala, who not that long ago had actively disliked her. Apparently she'd gotten her father's forgiving nature along with his powers. In the end, she just groaned. "He is _such_ a control freak! Diana never did anything that ridiculous to me or Cassie."

The young Kryptonian gave a shrug at that. "Bruce is more territorial. Gotham is _his_ city, and he doesn't want anyone working here that isn't trained to his standards. I didn't like it, but I eventually understood it. Honestly, Jay was worse. He was literally trying to chase me out of town – until he realized Supers don't run."

"I guess we're not as hung up on it," Donna mused. "I mean, Cassie's home base is Gateway City, I mostly stick around Boston these days, and Di's got DC for the most part. We all travel, though. Nothing's too far if you've got flight."

"Dad's the same way. Metropolis is our city, but he and I go everywhere. Once you've seen the world from orbit, all of it looks like home." Kala said it offhandedly, as if the statement should be self-evident. To her, apparently, it was.

Donna glanced at her again. A year ago, she never would've expected philosophical discourse from the girl she thought of as a dilettante. Kala _was_ young, and she still needed more experience to add to the rigorous training she'd gotten over the summer, but she was nothing like the dangerous firebrand Donna had imagined her to be. "I'm really glad I managed to make things right with you," she said gently.

Kala gave her a wry smile. "Wait 'til we have to work together on something serious. I'm sure you'll find reasons to be frustrated with me all over again. Jay's starting to get upset because I have a tendency to run ahead and dive in."

"Well, that's what you are," Donna said. "All of us metahumans are like that, in a way. We know our strengths, we know our powers, we know our limited vulnerabilities. It can be frustrating for our human friends and allies, but we spend most of our working hours jumping in front of the humans to protect them. How can anyone be surprised that it's our first reaction to working with them, too?"

Kala landed with a sigh, inspecting her work. They were almost ready for Selina to bring over the cats; they'd set up food and water first, then put out boxes for cats to hide in and a variety of scratching surfaces. A huge cat tree – or two – in each apartment gave additional perches and cover. Selina also had the fancy automated litter-boxes, which to Donna's surprise didn't have any unpleasant odor even to her enhanced senses.

"Jay worries about me getting hurt," Kala said. "And I worry about him. He's … not reckless, not really. But he's been hurt enough."

Donna bit her lip for a moment, studying the screw she was tightening. "Jay … yes, he's been hurt too much. Including by me."

"The details of that are none of my business," Kala hurried to say. "It messed with my head when I found out about you and Jay, but it's _really_ none of my business."

"It's like a workplace romance," Donna said. "We all have to work together, so everyone has to deal with the fallout from breakups. Jay and I … it was messy. Mostly my fault. I think you're probably better for him. And I care enough about him to want him to be happy. So it's none of my business, either. Just … be careful. He gets his hackles up, sometimes, about being protected."

Kala bit her lip. "Yeah, so far so good. My issue was, I spent a lot of time during training, worrying that he was comparing us. And you're the model Titan."

Donna leaned back from her work, catching Kala's gaze directly. They were of a height, but Kala was more delicately built – not that it mattered, both of them had strength beyond mere physicality. "Kala, even if he was thinking something like that, you measure up just fine. Against me, or anyone else."

The Kryptonian took a deep breath, and let it out in a sigh. "Thank you. I just … I started out late in this, you know? I never actually planned to do it at all. I just came in to save Jason's bacon, because that's what I always do. We've always looked out for each other, right back to grade school. But there were issues – I wasn't ready, and he was. Besides, neither of us wanted to start our career as 'the twins', we wanted to be individuals. And on top of that, there's Dad's identity to consider. Me standing aside was the sensible option."

Donna crossed the little distance between, and gently took Kala's shoulders. "You don't owe me an explanation, Kala. You never should've felt pushed into this. If you being part-time was really a problem, someone should've sat down with you and explained it. Not ripped your head off in front of the team."

Kala looked troubled. "That's not what you did, Donna. I know I don't owe you, but if you're gonna be honest with me, I might as well be honest with you. Someone other than Jay should have the story straight. A lot of people aren't going to think he's objective. But I wouldn't be with him if he wasn't."

"It _is_ what I did. I hate that he's right about this, but I'm a control freak, Kala. Every time a little chaos enters my life, things go absolutely to hell." Donna smiled sadly at her. "I tend to overcompensate because of it, now. That's _not_ your fault, and you shouldn't have suffered for it."

"I get it. No one in this business does it for long without developing some issues. I forgave and forgot, Donna, we're good." Kala spoke earnestly.

Donna just nodded. "About the other thing – I know there's a lot of loose talk in the Titans. I'll work on that, and it won't sound like it's because of you. We're all in this together. The last thing we need is to start sniping at each other."

"Amen to that, but I'm mostly good," Kala said, smiling. "I've got at least one person I know who believes in me."

"And he's not easy to impress," Donna said with a grin. That got both of them chuckling.

…

Selina pulled up shortly after Donna and Kala finished getting things ready, and she walked breezily into Jay's building like she knew her way around. "Superpowers get to bring in the big carriers," she said lightly, setting down two small carriers along one wall.

"I can't wait to meet the serval," Kala said brightly. Serious conversation with Donna or not, she was still delighted that Jay trusted her this much.

"Good, he's in the navy blue carrier," Selina said, and they got to work.

Kala couldn't help a snort of surprise when she saw the van Selina was using, a solid white windowless panel van. "God, Uncle Bruce had something like this? What does he use it for? It looks like it should have 'Free Candy' spray-painted on the side. That's the scariest thing I've seen him own, and I've been in the armory."

Donna snickered at that, and Selina laughed too. "It's the surveillance van. He's got a ton of magnetic signs to stick on the sides – florist, electrician, house painter, whatever. All he needs to do is sit behind the wheel in coveralls with some takeout, and people think he's a tradesman taking a lunch break. He gets an hour or two sitting in plain sight without being noticed. And apparently there are sophisticated cameras hidden all over the thing, too. I spotted the ones in the license plates, and in the side mirrors, but knowing Bruce there are more."

"Smart – but we all know he is," Kala remarked, and picked up the big navy-blue pet carrier. She tried to peer inside, but all she saw were two pairs of reflective eyes before a deep growl warned her not to get too personal. "Yikes, sorry," Kala said, and carried it up.

The three women soon had all twenty carriers lined up, and Selina made sure they were facing the main feeding station. "Are all the windows closed, locked, and barred?" she asked.

Kala had anticipated that question. Jay had central heat and air, and she'd turned the HVAC settings up for this floor to get more circulation. "Always, this is Jay we're talking about. I think the windows might be nailed shut."

Selina sighed, looking over her charges. "I hope this doesn't go on too long. This is not ideal living space for them – they've got their own floor in my building, and access to the roof and fire escape, but I keep them off the streets. They're not used to so many moves and changes."

Donna shrugged. "If I had Diana's rapport with animals, I could try to reassure them, but that's one of the powers only she has."

Selina smiled at her. "Cats are fairly adaptable. They should settle all right. Thank you for the offer, though. I appreciate the sentiment."

Kala stood back, watching, as Selina went to the first carrier. Jay had told her about the flood of cats, and for her own amusement she wanted to try to count them. It seemed hard to believe that Selina had managed to corral all of them in just a couple hours. Then again, she _was_ Catwoman.

A veritable tide of cats poured out as Selina let them loose. One of the first handful out were the five sisters Kala had met at the Manor, and Norway ran right over to Kala. Standing on her hind feet, the small fluffy cat braced her forepaws on Kala's knee and gave a demanding _maow_. "All right, spoiled, I'll pick you up," Kala said, bending down to scoop her up. Norway snuggled in her arms, purring extravagantly.

Donna had leaned against the wall, watching the cats explore, and Kala heard her say, "Well hello there," in surprised tones.

She and Selina both looked, and Selina chuckled at the sight of brown tabby perched on Donna's shoulder already. "That's Belle. She picked Dick as her favorite person at the Manor – she's very outgoing and friendly, just like him. Also she could climb embossed wallpaper as a kitten."

"No wonder she's this forward," Donna said, reaching up to pet the tabby.

Norway noticed that Kala had stopped rubbing her chin, and softly patted her hand with a low _murr_. "Oh my God, sorry I forgot to pet you for half a second," Kala laughed.

Selina turned back to the carriers, but asked Kala, "So, do you want six cats? Because as much as I love the sisters, Norway _really_ likes you and Jay. Or at least two cats. The other four would be all right, but Fraidy needs Norway to keep her social."

Kala sighed, the cat in her arms purring hard enough that she felt it resonate in her chest. "I wish I could take her. She's so sweet, like a fuzzy little bonbon. But it's no life for a kitty-cat, being on tour six months out of the year."

Selina shrugged. "Maybe I'll talk Jay into it."

"He's not great with animals, but she'd keep him company when I can't be there," Kala mused.

Selina fell quiet, concentrating on the order in which she released the cats. The next big carrier held the serval, and Kala gasped at how beautiful he was. Smiling, Selina told her, "Franklin's gorgeous, isn't he? He's also very slightly bowlegged from having rickets as a kitten. Cats cannot live on a diet of pure meat. They need the calcium in bones. Cat food has the right supplements, but this lady was raising him on straight raw meat. He still gets a little extra, but he also get bones like the rest of them."

"Wait, I've heard of giving bones to dogs, but not cats," Donna said with a frown.

"It's good for their teeth. You have to be careful; raw bones only, from a trusted source. I get turkey and chicken necks for these guys. Franklin there can chew right through a turkey neck in seconds." Selina sounded proud of him.

Kala watched the rest of the parade, tabbies and tortoiseshells, black and white and orange and gray, big cats and little cats. Once the last carrier was open and the cats were roaming freely, she looked at Selina in confusion. "Jay said there were thirty-three or thirty-four. I just counted thirty-eight. How was he that far off?"

"He wasn't," Selina chuckled. "There were a few ferals in the woods around Wayne Manor. Now they're part of my clowder. And I picked up a stray on my way back from seeing Harley, too. Don't worry, everyone's already fixed, and I keep a stock of vet supplies handy, so they've had shots and been dewormed."

Kala looked at her dubiously, Norway still purring in her arms. "That's a _lot_ of cats, Selina. The upkeep must be insane."

"Oh, it is, but I have a reputation to uphold," Selina said breezily. "Besides, to be honest, Miss Kitty finds most of the strays. I can't say no to her. The tame ones I try to find homes for. It's hard, though. There are far more cats out there than homes for them. Luckily the local rescues received some big donations recently."

She sounded smug about that, but Kala didn't get a chance to ask. Donna was looking thoughtful. "Dick told me you never put Miss Kitty in a carrier. What are you going to do with her during the gala? If the Manor is one big trap, are you taking her with you?"

"No, that would be a little too obvious," Selina replied. "I'll talk her into staying here and watching over these guys while I'm out."

Nodding, Donna said, "I guess we're ready to head out and see how far along the boys are. I've got to head for the airport soon."

Selina cocked her head. "I always wondered why you guys took commercial flights. Can't you get there faster yourselves?"

"Luggage," they both said in unison, and Kala laughed. "Sometimes it's nice to leave a paper trail, too. Thinking about it, though, I should probably box up my presents and ship them home. I can get someone in the family to swing by my place and take the box inside. I guess I'll wait until after the gala, so I can ship the dress he bought me, too."

"I want to see this dress. Most men I know can't buy clothes for women," Selina said, arching a brow.

"Me, too. Send photos," Donna added.

"Who do you think made my uniform? For a guy who lives in jeans and t-shirts, Jay's pretty good with clothes," Kala replied, making both of them laugh. "I'm Lois Lane's daughter, I know how to shoot and drive and fight. My _father_ had to teach me how to sew a button back on."

"Jay is pretty exceptional in a lot of ways. I really do want to see the dress, though," Donna told her, with a little smile.

And just like that, somehow, Kala had gone from rivalry to truce to friendship.

…

Jay leaned back from the wiring and rubbed at his eyes. He had been rigging sensors to gas nozzles – they wouldn't hook up the canisters until right before they left. The last thing they needed was to accidentally trigger them and knock out half the family. All of the apparatuses had to be hidden, of course, so he had to run wires under rugs and along door jambs, then solder things together. It was a pain in the ass, and he couldn't help remembering that he'd learned these skills for wiring bombs.

Sometimes he wondered if Bruce thought back to his training like this. A lot of the skills Bruce had were extracted from teachers who didn't share his commitment to nonlethal means. The Bat used explosives and timed charges in his work, and whoever he'd learned it from probably hadn't had his ethics. Although maybe whoever it was had been a little less transparently awful than Jay's old bomb instructor.

Sighing, Jay twisted the wires together and soldered them, muttering under his breath. If he'd been putting in a long-term installation, he would've used heat-shrink plastic covers on all these joints, but since it was just a few days, he wrapped everything in electrical tape and called it good. And then cursed as he had to lie on his back and reach up under a table to stick the sensor where it needed to be. If Joker broke this infrared beam, he'd set off gas canisters in this room and the hallway.

Catching Joker like this would mean locking him back in Arkham, Jay knew. Not the conclusion he wanted, but he still hoped the plan would succeed. It wouldn't be the end – Joker always managed to break out again – but it would put a stop to the murders and fires and everything else for a while. And when Joker _did_ get out, Jay could always catch him then. Right now, stopping him mattered more than how they did it, or who got credit.

He heard boots in the hallway, and then Kala's voice. "We're back. I locked everything up tight. Selina will be here soon; Bruce's kidnapper van is a lot slower than I am."

"Yeah, but so's a fighter jet," Jay said, sliding out from under the table and dusting off his hands. "I hate this shit. Didja get all thirty-four cats moved in?"

Kala scoffed. "Thirty-eight. She picked up a few more."

"Fuck, we _are_ gonna be on Hoarders," Jay groaned.

She laughed a little at that, then spoke more seriously. "Jay … thank you for taking care of them. And trusting me to work around your building."

"You're nothing if not trustworthy, K. Hell, if I can't rely on _you_ to do the right thing, no one else is ever gonna be trusted at all." Jay shrugged and tried to sound flippant, but he didn't quite succeed.

She held out her hand, and Jay let her help him up. Not that he needed it, but hell, what was the point of having a girlfriend with super-strength if you couldn't lean on it occasionally? "I think everyone's gathering in the parlor to watch the news," Kala said.

Jay looked at the time, and sighed. Full dark outside, he was finally done with his section, and the rest were probably close to done with theirs, too. "I'm done here. Let's catch the news and then I'll help whoever's got the most left to do."

The two of them went downstairs – Jay admiring the sway of Kala's hips as she preceded him – and into the parlor. Bruce was already there, along with Alfred, and the television was already tuned to the news. The top story, of course, was the fires last night, which the news anchors reported to be the alleged work of the Joker and Harley Quinn. "Talk about a breakup gone bad," one of them said, to the sound of canned laughter.

Jay just rolled his eyes at that. The other anchor redirected a little, saying, "Fortunately, no one was killed in either fire, and the fire department investigators are continuing to gather data about the case. The human cost is still no laughing matter. Let's go to a prerecorded interview with one of the teachers whose classroom was destroyed. Sharon?"

The picture shifted to a reporter standing with a shell-shocked teacher, and Jay felt a chill wash over him. That was Ms. Harlow, looking much the same as she had when she was his teacher except for her haunted eyes. When the reporter introduced her and asked her how she felt, she simply answered, "Lucky."

Clearly that surprised the reporter, who asked, "I'm sorry, did you say 'lucky'?"

"Yes," Ms. Harlow answered crisply, sounding like she had in the classroom ten years ago. "We live in Gotham City, young lady. I feel _lucky_ because that psychopath decided to burn down a school while we were all on winter break. No one was hurt, and even the class hamsters went home with a student for the break. The supplies and furnishings can be replaced. The students' artwork can't. But I'll still count it lucky that no one died last night. I've been teaching for thirty years, and I've seen too many of my students lost to violence."

Her dry, matter-of-fact tone struck Jay right in the heart. _No one_ should be that calm about a school burning down! Hell, he recognized his own cynicism as unhealthy, but necessary for his line of work. For a teacher who worked with middle school students – one who took absolutely zero bullshit from them, but who had a gift for connecting with even the troubled ones – to be so blasé about it made him want to punch something.

Someone should've killed Joker years ago, before the people of Gotham got so used to his brand of crazed violence. And despite everything, Jay felt a little guilt for not just _doing_ it. The first time, not his scheme to force Bruce to put down the Clown.

There had been a time when Jay stood over a gasoline-soaked Joker with a lighter in his hand, and he hadn't dropped it. He hadn't torched his nemesis because it didn't feel like _enough_. If Jay had just _done_ it then, when he had Joker completely at his mercy, they wouldn't be here now. Maybe Bruce would've gotten over it in a year or two. And now Jay wouldn't be watching one of his favorite teachers claim she felt _lucky_ that no one died.

The news switched back to the anchors, but Jay had seen enough. "God_dammit_," he snarled, wishing he had something to throw.

Kala looked at him, startled; the rest looked wary. "What's wrong?" Dick asked.

"What's _wrong_? That's Ms. Harlow! She was the one who took me aside and let me tell her everything I remembered about my mom, when she found out I didn't wanna hear about Mother's Day stuff 'cause my mom was dead! She was about the best damn teacher I had, she never let me get away with showing my temper, but she was always patient. She's just damn _good_." Anger frothed in his chest. Never mind that he'd been about fifteen when he last saw the woman, his training and his very _soul_ rejected the notion of anyone he cared about being in harm's way.

"And that's got you cursing?" Donna asked, raising an eyebrow.

K didn't ask. She probably had a good idea, so she just looked at him, her eyes steady, ready to jump in if he needed her. Jay just ground his teeth. "Nobody should have to be that fucking _cynical_. She feels _lucky_? 'Cause no one died? Shit, _we_ think like that. This shithole town, I swear, some days it really would be better just to raze the whole fucking place and start over. People fucking _live_ like that, just waiting for Joker to show up and burn down a fucking school. And all to make a _point_ – Joker just wants Harley to know he's aimed at her, and wants _us_ to know he knows who we are. Miserable fuck."

"Jason," Bruce began, but Jay cut him off.

"Relax, I'm not gonna shoot him in the Manor if we catch him tomorrow," Jay said sharply. "The world would be a better place if I'd done it years ago, and you all know it."

They looked at him solemnly, their eyes troubled, and Jay turned with a sigh. "Fuckin' morals," he muttered, and headed up to his room to brood.

…

Dick let out a sigh to break the tension. "I can't say I blame him…"

"I've got him," Kala said, with a quick glance around the room. No condemnation in her gaze; they had all known Jay would react like that. To any teacher, really, but this being one of his favorites just made it more personal.

Bruce nodded, and Kala left. Donna stirred next. "I worry about him," she said.

"Jason is extremely effective in the field, and he hasn't had any relapses in the past year," Bruce replied.

Donna rolled her eyes at him as only an Amazon could. "I don't care about his _effectiveness_, Bruce. I worry about his state of mind."

Dick reached out to touch her shoulder. "Kala's got him. Jay will be all right."

"Are you sure? That's asking a lot of her," Donna pointed out.

He could only shrug. "She volunteered. Honestly, I was worried about letting the two firebrands run off together, but so far it seems they stabilize each other."

"If you're sure," Donna said.

"You talked to both of them. They're doing pretty good, aren't they?" Dick asked.

Donna nodded; she couldn't disagree. No one who spent five minutes around Kala or Jay could fail to see that they were both ridiculously in love, and bringing out the best in each other. Jay hadn't been this calm or _open_ even when he was a kid. Dick, personally, was all for it. This Christmas had been everything Dick wanted in the world: everyone he cared about in the same place, getting along with each other.

Now all he needed to make it a perfect holiday was for Joker to get knocked out by sleeping gas, and locked up tight in Arkham for the rest of his natural life.

Well, no. If he were completely honest with himself, what Dick _really_ needed was for Joker to get hit by a car or struck by lightning or something. Taken out by random chance, so no one had to struggle with Jay's dilemma, and wonder how many more shattered lives there would be with Joker running loose. Bruce believed that even Joker might someday, somehow be redeemed; Dick couldn't be quite that optimistic.

He chuckled to himself. That was asking too much, in this life. He'd take getting through New Year's Day with no more drama as the closest life could come to perfection.


	36. On the Crest of New-Fallen Snow

"Smarmy fucking know-it-all asshole," Jay growled, his hands itching to throw a punch. Not here, though, he wouldn't do damage that Alfred would have to fix. If he'd been at the bunker, putting his fist through drywall would've been satisfying. At the Manor, he'd feel too guilty about it.

He heard Kala follow him into the bedroom. "Jay, come on. He'd be thrilled to know he got under your skin," she cajoled. She was angry about the school arson, too, and she knew the danger she'd be in if Joker connected the dots far enough to find out who the Blur was. Thank God for Bruce's paranoia and K's powers. Between the two, there were precious few links between Kala and the Blur or Kala and the Waynes.

Not that Jay was any less pissed about it. "Fuck that, K. I'll get under _his_ skin. With a knife, and make myself a rug." He tried to shrug the tension out of his shoulders, but it just kept building. He kept seeing Ms. Harlow's face, how unhappy she looked, and yet how unsurprised. All that misery had just been a way for Joker to make a point to the Bats, that he knew who they were. The threat to himself and his brothers was bad enough. If Joker _did_ catch a hint about the Blur's identity? Even _thinking_ about that murderous clown threatening _K_ was enough to make Jay see Lazarus-green with wrath.

It had been a long time since _that_ had happened.

"Jay. Let it go; we can't do anything else about it tonight." Even with her temper running just as hot as his, Kala was speaking sense, and he knew it, but Jay was too torqued-up to hear it.

He was afraid to turn and see her with those hints of green in the corners of his vision. As if Kala could somehow see it in him, and recoil. So he kept his back to her and snarled, "Shit like this is the reason why I wanna put him down for good."

Without the slightest hesitation, Kala came around to face him, her expression serious and determined. This wasn't the first time that a sea-change had rocked her world, and he knew it. Apparently she didn't see anything in his eyes that frightened her, or disgusted her, because she met his gaze steadily. "Okay. You wanna do this tonight? Say the word, and we'll do it."

At that, Jay just scowled at her. It was one hell of an offer, the wrathful look in her eyes all coldness and truth. This was a step beyond what they'd said last night, letting Harley go. That had been in cold blood, talking about what they'd do if they had the opportunity. This was planning to hunt Joker down, right now, when they wouldn't have a chance in hell of denying it. Babs already knew; if they went right now, Bruce would _have_ to know it was them.

Oh, Jay _wanted_ to, and knowing that she was down – they were talking about committing _premeditated murder_ in Batman's city, and _Supergirl_ was offering to help him both find the miserable fucker _and_ dispose of the body – made him itch to just get out there and _do_ it already. Jay would sleep a lot better with the Clown dead, and so would a bunch of other people he cared about. Even Harley had tugged at his heartstrings, and he'd _never_ expected to feel sympathy for Joker's girl.

But with Kala standing there rock steady, willing to roll out and end the Clown on his say-so, Jay had to step back and examine his priorities. If Joker died tonight, Bruce would be outraged. On some levels, Jay didn't give a fuck what Bruce thought or said or did; he'd gone toe to toe with Batman and, if he hadn't exactly won, he hadn't exactly lost, either. On some other levels, it _did_ matter, because if Bruce disowned him, he'd be giving up his whole family just to kill a guy he hated. Why should he give Joker that much of his life?

And then there was the whole other issue staring him in the face, literally, which was Kala Lane-Kent, rock star KLK, Kala Kal-El, _Supergirl_, ready to plan a murder with him. That was a whole other realm of responsibility that Jay wasn't sure he was ready to seriously take hold of. Sure, they'd talked about killing Joker ever since she saw his file, but it had been just talk at first. Easy, when Joker was locked up someplace with cameras all around. Jay had said a dozen times to as many people that he meant to kill the Joker.

Even last night, it was still hypothetical. Kala had said since nearly the beginning that she'd help him kill Joker, but neither of them knew when or how they'd encounter the Clown next. And today he'd been helping make plans to hit Joker with knockout gas, not nerve toxin. As if his resolution to kill the bastard could be put off indefinitely. He'd even thought, as he wired up the sensors earlier, that it'd be okay to just lock Joker up for a while, and get him when he inevitably broke out.

He hadn't made any _plans_, though. And he liked things to be planned. Jay could do improv with the best of them, but for something like this, it was best to have a script. Joker was too damn good at turning chaotic situations to his own advantage. A plan with multiple failsafes was the best way to approach this … and yet, making plans made it all _real_.

Jay hadn't killed anyone in over a year. Which sounded like some stupid Murderers Anonymous shit, like he was supposed to get a token for it, but the truth was, Jay had gotten way too comfortable with killing. It was better – _he_ was better, if his go-to solution wasn't a bullet in the brain-pan. Hell, if he'd run across Harley a couple years ago, he would've just capped her and walked away without a second thought. Now, thanks to all the parts of his psyche that were finally thawing out and coming back online after being a Lazarus Pit sociopath for too long, Jay recognized that killing Harley wasn't necessary. He couldn't condemn her, he'd killed as many people as she had; if she deserved to die, so did he.

But by the same token, if he could turn his life around, maybe so could she. Harley seemed to _want_ to change, at least as far as getting away from Joker, and even Bruce thought that she and Pam would be less murder-y together. The same way Jay and Kala kept each other on a more even keel.

All of that gave more weight to killing Joker. It wasn't something Jay wanted to do lightly, both because being unprepared would get him killed, and being too casual about it was falling back into patterns of behavior he was trying to leave behind.

Leaving on the spur of the moment, because he was pissed off, and dragging Kala into this mess, was the exact _opposite_ of how it needed to be done. He knew that, and couldn't ignore it. So Jay let out a huge sigh, and raked his hand through his hair. "_Fuck_. Much as I want to, it's not a smart play. Not like this, not right now."

"Okay then," Kala said, still just as steady as ever, taking a deep breath and shaking the fire out of her eyes. For someone who lived up to her codename regularly, his girl could be damn solid sometimes. "Now what?"

"Now I break into the liquor cabinet and drink until I forget that fucker probably knows all of our identities," Jay growled, wishing they were at the bunker with its emergency scotch stash. Knowing that waiting was the smart option didn't make it any easier to do, when the back of his mind was replaying Joker's Greatest Hits.

Kala caught his elbow gently, looking up at him. "Am I that bad a substitute?"

He couldn't help a chuckle. "You're more intoxicating than booze. Problem is, K, you're the one who's making me feel like a human being again. And part of being human is being pissed that other people hafta suffer because of assholes like him."

She tipped her head to one side, and then smiled. "I have an idea. Question is, do you trust me?"

Silly question. "Of course. Whaddya got in mind, Supergirl?" Jay let his voice turn taunting, looming over her the way that always made her grin. Anger could transmute into lust pretty effectively, after all, and some exercise would maybe let him sleep later on.

"I'm not letting some rat-fucking clown screw up my whole night," Kala declared, running her fingers over his cheekbone with a wistful smile. "And the best cure for _you_ right now, Jaybird, is a geographical."

Jay's brows furrowed, not following her train of thought. "Where are we going, then? It's time for rounds."

"Yeah, we're not going on rounds tonight, feeling like this," Kala said, and then started to smile. "I don't think they expect us, and even if they do, they can handle it for a night. Just trust me, Jaybird. And pack clothes for tomorrow. We're going overnight." She held out her hand, waiting with a playful, secretive little grin.

For a long moment, Jay just glowered at her. But Kala didn't waver, just gave him a reproving look with her head tilted to the side. God, she was so fucking _hopeful_. Even when he was being a surly prick she could smile at him. Probably because she knew he couldn't resist the sunlight in her smile. "Fine, let's go," he grumbled, and grabbed a few things to stuff in a bag. He didn't have to look in Kala's direction to know the way she was grinning at getting her way. While he packed, Kala blurred past him to grab her bag and the burgundy throw from the bed. When he was done, she stood before him with her hand out again, waving her fingers in a 'come here' gesture.

The moment he put his hand in hers, she tugged him back into the hallway and downstairs. The rest of the family had started to disperse after the news broadcast, but Kala managed to catch most of them on the stairs. "We're taking a mental health break," she declared. "You don't really need us on patrol tonight, do you?"

Dick grinned hugely, and Jay wondered what he knew that Jay himself didn't. "Nah. I'm about to drive Donna to the airport. Jay, did you finish the east wing wiring?"

"Yeah," he said, and looked at Bruce. If anyone was going to protest them going off-script, it was Bruce.

To his immense surprise, Bruce simply nodded. "A change of scenery might be helpful. And no matter where you go, you can make it back here fast enough if there are issues. Keep your comm handy."

"Glad you agree," Kala said with a smirk. "I'll contact Babs and tell her what the situation is."

Donna was standing by Dick, her own luggage beside her, and she smiled gently at them both. "It was good to see you again, Jay – and good to spend some time with you, too, Kala. We need to do this again sometime."

"Yeah, it's been good seeing you, too," Jay said. Weirdest of all, he _meant_ it. Next thing you know, he'd be on civil speaking terms with _Talia_. What a world _that_ would be.

"I'd like that," Kala told Donna, smiling. "Be safe, Donna."

"I will. And see, I'm a lot less of a high-riding bitch when I'm not at work," Donna said, laughing.

Jay startled at that, and so did Kala, but all three of them laughed. And it served to get his attention even further away from Joker's threats. Over the summer, when Kala got pissed at him about Donna, he never would've guessed they could get along. Or that Donna could playfully curse like that. Hell, maybe they were all a good influence on her.

They headed out, Dick and Donna to the garage, Jay and Kala to the front yard. "Hold on," was all the warning he got before she started to drift upward. That and another flash of that brilliant grin.

Oddly enough, her flying slowly made him clutch her hands a little tighter. In hot pursuit, he'd learned to handle the sheer speed she was capable of, mostly because he _had_ to. And generally there was no time to freak out while they had more important shit – like catching bad guys – to do. Rising gently like this was too much time to think about all the space under them. Never mind that she could support him and his bike if she wanted to; never mind that he routinely jumped across rooftops higher than this. Jay still felt a crawling sensation down his spine.

Evidently it showed on his face, because Kala leveled them out, pulling him against her side as she chuckled. That free-hand flying shit freaked him out something fierce. "You're worse than my dork brother. The big bad Red Hood, the scourge of Gotham, turns out to _still_ be a total chicken about flying. Even when I'm going at Dad's cruising speed. Gotta admit, never gets old."

"Yeah, shut up," he growled, but felt the corners of his mouth turning up in a smile. With anyone else, pointing out a weakness was a great way to get Jay's fist upside their mouth, but with Kala it was almost cute to see how much it entertained her. That, and he knew Kala wasn't going to use it against him. Ever.

"I guess it's a thing with guys named Jason. They just don't like flying, period," Kala teased. They were high enough now that the wind was whistling in Jay's ears as she soared above Gotham.

"You say shit like that, it makes me wonder about the kind of chick who dates a guy with the same name as her brother," Jay taunted. "Are you guys from the Kryptonian version of Alabama?"

That only prompted a brief snort of dismissal. "Yeah, 'cause you two have _sooo_ much in common, you deflecting asshole," Kala shot back, mock-scowling at him. "Don't insult your pilot or her intelligence, Mr. Hood. Especially not when I'm the only thing holding you up."

With easy confidence, he retorted, "Supers don't drop people from heights. It's a Bat tactic, and even we make sure to catch them with a grappling line. If you did there'd be a lot more pancaked bad guys in Metropolis."

She narrowed her eyes, trying to keep the lighthearted tone out of her voice, but he knew she was only teasing. "Fine, then, since you just can't let it go. Keep talking shit about your _partner_, Red, if you want to slip in between cold sheets tonight all alone, at whatever our destination might be."

"Yes, ma'am," Jay said, making his tone brightly respectful, and Kala tipped her head back to chuckle. No matter how often he heard it, he still couldn't believe how often she did that. Just burst out laughing, bright as sunshine. "Hey, you can't blame me. I kinda _like_ having a super-heater keeping me warm at night."

It did the trick. "Good, I always appreciate you owning up to me," she purred, before sounding mostly serious again. "Because I find myself liking you a little; a tiny bit, sometimes. At odd moments. God help me, even with dick jokes and cold toes and all." Again, her eyes were dancing when she looked at him.

They'd had enough serious conversation over the past few days, this kind of teasing was a welcome departure. Jay smirked at her, wrapping his arms around her as he decided to just let it all go for a while. "I like more than the solar-powered heating blanket and you know it. Now are you gonna tell me where we're going?"

"Nope," she said without a hint of hesitation, smirking before taking out her comm, making a call. "Oracle? Heads-up. Jay and I are going on a little adventure. He needs a change of pace after all this. Can you take us off the roster, please, for tonight and tomorrow? Promise that we'll be back in time to prep for the gala if you'll give us a hall pass."

"Can do," Jay heard Babs say. "We all need a little R&R, right now. Your adventure is going to be someplace secure, I hope?"

"Far enough out of town to not be in anyone's range," Kala replied, and Jay started wondering if they were headed back to Hong Kong. Or to a deserted island somewhere. He wouldn't mind playing castaway with her, and tropical heat would be a welcome change from Gotham's weather. Hell, _anything_ would be a welcome change from Gotham's shitty weather.

Babs signed off, and that was all the conversation for a while. Jay concentrated on the scenery as Kala set out, flying at a slower but steady pace. The night was crisp and clear at this altitude, the stars achingly bright above. Beneath his feet lay thousands of tiny points of light, the cities below visible only by their nighttime illumination. Although he did notice they were headed south, by the patterns of light slipping by underneath them: bright belts for the roads, speckles of light for houses, larger blocks for athletic fields and parking lots. He could follow the main highways and had a rough idea of where they were, but no clue where they were headed.

As Jay watched, the dark spots seemed to grow, the lights more strung out between them. Up ahead on their level, he saw heavy clouds. "K? Where are we going?" he asked.

"You'll see." A daredevil grin this time, full of that wild delight she always showed just before she pulled something crazy in a fight. Those clouds were getting closer, and Jay suddenly realized how fast they were traveling—faster than any car. "Hold on." He flinched the moment before they punched into the leading edge of the storm, suddenly enveloped in thick cold moisture.

Then Kala was dropping, down below the cloud layer, and to Jay's surprise they were suddenly floating in a snow-shower. It snowed in Gotham, sure, a picturesque layer of white until the city churned it to gray slush and treacherous ice, but this … this was different. Beneath him he could see only dark evergreen trees marching up hillsides and open fields under a blanket of snow, a single winding road shining black in the midst of it.

Kala landed in a field, snow crunching beneath their boots, and Jay could see the white mist of his breath. Still more snow fell, already dusting their shoulders and flecking Kala's black hair. "Surprise. Welcome to the Blue Ridge mountains, Jaybird," she said, smiling. "After the bullshit tonight, I figured that maybe we needed a night away. From everyone and everything. We're only a little ways from the family's vacation cabin and they're all still in Smallville or Metropolis. I know it's not slush and noise pollution, but it's good to change-up sometimes."

He looked around, taking it all in. The scene looked like something out of a postcard: moonlight on the snow, white-capped mountains surrounding them, and the beautiful girl in front of him with a hopeful smile curving her lips. Hell, Kala could've been Snow White, with a touch of crimson lipstick. She had the fair complexion and the blacker-than-black hair. Except for the slightly anxious way she was watching for his reaction. "I like it," he finally said. Even if he hadn't had complete trust in her, he would've said it anyway, rather than let her feel unappreciated.

"Good." That nervous light flickered out, Kala obviously relieved, and she let go of his hands. Jay took a step away, turning to survey the area again. There was an unearthly silence out here, none of the city noises he took for granted, not even the swish of tires on pavement. The falling snow made no sound, either. There was just their breathing, the crunch of their footsteps, and a faint sighing of wind.

At least until he heard Kala chuckle again, and turned to get a snowball to the shoulder. "Hey!" Jay exclaimed, but she was already balling up another one, tighter this time, challenge in her eyes. It hit like a mini-cannonball, very nearly spilling him backwards in a way that had Kala going again. How else could he respond but to grab up a handful of snow and fling it at her? Kala dodged, laughing gaily, and it was like Christmas Day all over again.

It was no small feat to land a flying snowball on someone with super-speed, but Jay managed it eventually, and seeing the powder fly from the impact with Kala's shoulder made him crow with delight. That just meant his mouth was open when her return volley caught him in the face.

There was no possible way he could win this, so eventually he got close enough to abandon the snowballs and just tackle Kala into the nearest deep drift. It had worked on Christmas, after all. They both sank into powdery snow, Kala on the bottom yelping in surprise. Jay tried to pin her down and kiss her, but she flailed at him, causing still more snow to collapse on them both, getting down his collar and even into his pockets. Kala managed to struggle out from underneath him, only to be tackled again.

That time they both came up spitting snow, and Kala pounced on him, rubbing a handful of snow into his hair. "Knock it off!" Jay yelped, swatting at her. Just playfully, this wasn't serious training—there was nothing serious about this trip. Of course, Kala didn't quit, instead grabbing his shoulders and shoving him down into the fluffy snow.

Jay retaliated by wrapping his arms around her waist and rolling both of them. He'd meant to only roll her under once, but they were on a hill and started rolling down it, to the sound of Kala laughing and Jay cursing, gathering snow as they went. By the time they managed to stop, both of them looked like they were midway through a transformation into snow-people. Kala was especially hilarious, her flashing eyes obscured by a face-full of frost.

Grabbing hold of her so she couldn't smack him again, Jay laughed and buried his face in Kala's neck. "You look ridiculous, Princess."

"You just _had_ to do that, you incredible fucking dork." She thumped his shoulder but turned to kiss his temple. "And I have news for you. You look more ridiculous, Abominable Snow-Hood."

"Yeah, right," he muttered, and nipped her neck, making her yelp. Play-wrestling quickly turned into rolling around in the snow and then into making out like a couple of crazy teenagers. The things Kala did to him were pretty much indescribable. For fuck's sake, half an hour ago he was thinking about murder, and now here he was _laughing_ and smiling and biting her neck while the snow down the back of his coat melted and dripped icy water all over him, Kala just as caught up in the moment. It felt _good_ to put all that darkness on hold and focus on the light in his life. It felt even better to know he could _do_ that, just lock all the bad stuff in a box in the back of his mind and deal with it later.

And the strangest thing of all was how much he _liked_ it. This was normal—well, normal except for the fact that Kala had flown them here faster than any jet—maybe more normal than any of the other expected holiday stuff he had done since Thanksgiving, and he was actually having fun. Without any explosions or anyone getting blown up. There were compromises to this new life of his, but despite everything, this was a good night. He might even forget about Joker, for a while.

It was almost like some kind of magic, the effect Kala had on him. She was his good-luck charm; whenever she turned up things just got brighter. And of course the powers, holy shit the powers were damn handy. From flying him out here like this to the strength that meant he never had to worry about being too rough to the simple act of lighting a cigarette with her fucking _eyes_, she was just plain amazing.

Kala sat up, straddling his waist, and pushed her hair out of her eyes. Unabashedly triumphant, she drawled down at him almost lazily, "Hey, Red? D'ya think we should take this party someplace a little warmer, maybe? You know, before you freeze to death?"

"Nah, if we get hypothermic, you can always light a bonfire," Jay replied, his hands on her hips. Fuck, if she just stayed there a little longer he'd completely forget about the _snow_. And he knew she knew it, too.

She gave a little silvery laugh at that, swiveled her hips just the slightest, and sighed a little. "As good as that feels, I'm _so_ not taking my clothes off in thirty-degree weather, Jay. Not even for you. Just get that thought out of your head." Kala stopped for a moment before amending, "At least not right now. Should we head to the cabin? Or you wanna stay here and make snow angels?"

"I've already got a snow angel," Jay replied, and _jeez_ that was corny, but the startled light in her eyes was worth it. There was nothing more adorable than the way she reacted to compliments like that, the way her eyes widened. Like it really did get to her. "Snow _queen_, more like," he amended, and had the satisfaction of seeing Kala blush and glance away for a moment. He had to grin.

"Can it, Kai, you've made your point," Kala murmured, her mind clearly no longer on playing in the snow when she met his eyes again. Nose to nose, she murmured teasingly, "All right, puny human. Let's get you someplace warm before you catch a chill."

"And if it's not warm when we get there, I'm sure we can heat it up," Jay replied, leaning up to kiss her, his girl laughing into it.

…

'Someplace warm' turned out to be an actual _log cabin_ out in the middle of the woods. Before Jay could make any jokes about breaking and entering, she unlocked the door with a key that hung beside all her other keys, and he remembered what she'd said about her family's cabin.

Jay skulked in the doorway, looking around as Kala went inside, flipping on lights. Lots of wood and stone, softened by throw rugs and furniture; the space looked cozy. Also totally indefensible, with the big windows, but _Superman_ hung out here, so it had all the defenses it needed. He moved into the living room cautiously, not sure why he felt so out of sorts. Maybe because this was a foreign space, and decorated with what he suspected might be called 'country charm'. That was certainly a quilt on the back of the sofa. For a city boy who'd traveled all the worst places in the world, it was as alien as the Fortress of Solitude. Maybe more so – he understood the Fortress armory, at least.

"Come _on_," Kala called from the kitchen. "The bears are _outside_, and they won't eat you anyway."

"There are fuckin' bears here?" he said, his voice rising, and realized how stupid that was. This morning when he'd woken up, the _last_ thing he ever imagined he'd have to worry about was _bears_. "Of course there are fuckin' bears here. Shit. We're in the middle of the goddamn woods. When do the nightly dueling banjos start?"

"_Jay!_" Kala laughed, but he heard exasperation in her voice. "We're ten miles from town, the locals are very sweet and they _love_ the Kents and Whites and Troupes, and it's just _one night_. Nothing's going to eat you in one night. It'll be fine."

"Easy for you to say," he grumbled. "You can fly. And your dad grew up in Kansas. You know how to act around civvies in the country."

She was still moving, though her voice came to him clearly as he stepped into the kitchen. "Calm down, paranoia-pants. One, there's no one else around to bother us for miles. Two, it has a hot tub. And three—"

On 'three', her top came sailing through the doorway and smacked him in the face. It was cold and damp from the snow they'd been rolling around in. "Three, I'm getting _in_ that hot tub now. Care to join me?"

And that was how Jason Todd, confirmed urbanite, wound up naked in a hot tub on the enclosed porch of a cabin in the middle of the North Carolina mountain country. A hot girl and a cold beer completed the picture just fine. Not a clue where she'd gotten the beer, but no way he'd question it. Kala, meanwhile, sipped her cider, which he for once didn't complain about. The pulsing jets of almost-too-hot water were soothing muscles he hadn't realized were tense, and outside he could hear an owl calling. Nothing out there was a real threat. No one who wanted him dead could have any clue where he was or how to find him. There was absolutely no paper trail to connect him to this place, and not even Bruce or Babs had so much as asked Kala where she was going. If _they_ didn't know, any potential threat couldn't come up with a hint of a clue.

For once, he was _safe_, and much to Jay's surprise, it was a comfortable feeling. He could've slipped off to sleep right there in the tub, but the drowsy, happy smile curving Kala's lips – and the way the turbulent water lapped at her breasts – gave him other ideas. "I could live in this thing," Jay admitted, reaching for her. "Gotta say, this's one of your better ideas, K."

"Why thank you," Kala laughed, sitting back up to slide over into his lap and kiss his nose playfully. "You sure you want to live in the hot tub, though? No bad guys to fight, except the mosquitoes in the summer."

"Could be a nice change of pace," he told her, while they both knew that retiring from the vigilante life would drive him nuts. Thank God, he knew it was something she'd never ask. K loved the fight too much herself to ask him to quit.

"Yeah, right, note that I'm not holding my breath," she snarked at him, nuzzling closer. "You also can't live in the hot tub because the kitchen – and the fridge – is too far away to reach."

"So we make a few trips for provisions," he said, shrugging, and nipped at her ear where a drop of warm water hung.

Jay could feel her chuckle as much as hear it. "Don't get yourself too wound up just yet, Robin. I know why you _really_ won't want to live in here," Kala whispered, arching her neck against his kisses. Jay made a noncommittal hum, almost ready to lose the thread of the conversation. Until she said, "We can't have sex here."

That woke him up a little, and he blinked at her. "Huh? Why not?" Jay was thinking it was maybe something to do with chlorine and condoms, which he'd have to somehow reach his pants to get hold of anyway.

Kala snickered, looking a little embarrassed. Now he really wanted to know; just the way she rolled her eyes briefly meant this was going to be good. "Same reason we don't have sex in anyone else's bed at the Manor. Because Lana – my stepmom – owns this place. And no sex in the hot tub is her rule."

Jay cocked his head. "Seriously? _How_ many rules have you broken, running with me?"

"Starting with 'don't sleep with capes', it's been a lot," Kala admitted. "But I try not to be rude to family, you heathen. Besides, if anyone broke it, it'd be Mom and Dad."

And that, predictably, put a little ice water on his plans for the next few minutes. Nope, not gonna screw Superman's daughter in the same hot tub where her parents might've gotten it on. "All right, plan B, find a nice bed to warm up," Jay said, trying to sound grumpy despite the way he was stroking her lithe back. "Tell me there's a room here your parents haven't tried to make any siblings in?"

"There's plenty, and mine should be made up. If not, I know where the linens are," Kala said matter-of-factly. "C'mon, Jay. Getting out of this thing is going to _suck_, but it'll be worth it."

He moved experimentally, and yeah, the air just outside the hot tub was pretty damn chilly. Steaming-hot water slopped over the sides of the tub and splashed on the deck, where it seemed to smoke in the cold air. "Oh hell, this _is_ gonna suck," he said.

That only earned a shrug from her as she moved off him to the opposite side. "It's warmer in here than out in the yard. But it's still about forty degrees."

"Jesus fuck, K, I'm gonna freeze my balls off," Jay complained, but he was laughing.

"You'll be _fine, _you whiner. Just run for it. And follow me." With that, she leaned to hit the controls in front of her, turning off the jets, and pulled the drain plug.

No sense in lingering, so Jay got out, yelping at the cold. He grabbed his discarded clothes – which were _also_ cold as fuck – and ran, his bare feet sticking to the cold deck. Kala led the way inside, her fair skin seeming to glow, and she took the stairs two at a time, still naked and dripping wet. Also yipping at the cold, and cursing under her breath. "Ow, ow, shoulda brought towels, _ow_, this is not okay!"

"Yeah, K, shoulda brought towels," Jay echoed, running up the stairs behind her, and this was legitimately insane. No one could've guessed this morning that he'd end up in a _log cabin_ chasing Supergirl up the stairs butt naked. It was almost surreal, in the best way.

…

Kala stayed ahead of Jay by a slim margin, letting him almost catch up. She'd never tried the hot tub naked before, and the lack of a wet bathing suit should've helped. Instead, though, her bare skin seemed hypersensitive to the cold.

She burst into her room and was glad to see the quilt on her bed. When she flung it back, though, there were no sheets underneath. Which made sense – Lana normally had a cleaning service come in and put sheets on if any of the family were coming up to the cabin, but Kala hadn't planned this. It had been a spur of the moment decision, a great one given how thoroughly distracted Jay seemed, and she didn't regret it even if she was going to have to go find some sheets in the linen closet.

Jay, however, either didn't notice the bare mattress, or didn't care. He came up behind her, dropping his clothes on the floor, and wrapped his arms around her. "Under the covers, _now_, before I die of frostbite," he demanded, a kiss on her shoulder softening it.

"There's no sheets," Kala complained, squirming a little. The way he said it warmed up her belly quite quickly.

"Don't care. Less to mess up," Jay teased, and nipped her neck.

Kala really didn't need a lot of encouragement to get in bed and pull the quilt over them. The cold couldn't hurt her, but that didn't mean she didn't feel it – and find it uncomfortable. It was even worse for Jay, who burrowed close to her, arms and legs twined around hers and his face buried in the crook of her neck. "You're _damp_," she complained, thinking about the water getting on the mattress cover. Hopefully the worst of it had been shed as they ran up the stairs.

"Yeah? You are, too," Jay pointed out, snuggling even closer. And then he laughed, his breath warm on her bare skin. "I could find out just how _wet_ you are…"

Catching her breath at that, Kala shook her head. "Not right now! Your hands are _cold_."

"Who said I was gonna check with my hands?" Jay laughed.

That sent a frisson down Kala's back that had nothing to do with the temperature. She didn't answer in words, just tilted his face up and kissed him.

This wasn't going to be like the enthusiastic bed-wrecking romps they usually had. Both of them wanted to keep the quilt over them, and the building body heat locked in by it, as much as possible. Jay started kissing little beads of water from Kala's skin, chasing them from where her hair had dripped on her shoulders, down over her breasts. She shivered, arching her back a little.

His hands _were_ cold, but the contrast felt delightful, her own skin warm despite the chill. Kala stroked the broad muscles of Jay's back, letting herself enjoy the feel of them tensing as he moved. Luckily for Jay, by the time his wandering hands made it south of her waist, he'd warmed up some.

Not enough to throw off the quilt; Kala hadn't adjusted the thermostat, which was currently set to keep the cabin above freezing, not for anyone's comfort. The little world under the quilt was quite hot enough, for now. Jay took his sweet time about it, savoring her, mapping out every curve with slow, thoughtful caresses.

Often, there was urgency to their passion, a bright-burning hunger that made Kala feel wild and reckless. Jay brought out a ferocity in her that no one else ever had, a desire to take control – or be controlled. For all her powers, with a handful of words or a look or a touch, Jay could set her alight in a wildfire blaze.

Tonight, he was tender, the deeply caring gentleness she sometimes found in him coming to the forefront. Maybe it was just the consideration of having to stay covered up to stay warm that made him move more slowly. Or maybe it was simply the fact that they were in a new space, hers instead of his. Or maybe just that they weren't in the city, and he didn't feel pressed for time the way Gotham always was.

Whatever the reason, Kala let herself luxuriate in the long slow burn, holding Jay close, kissing him lazily, chuckling when he reached out from under the covers to get a condom and cursed at the cold. And then let out a low, sumptuous moan a moment later, when he entered her. "Careful, Red," Kala murmured, breath coming in short pants, arching in time with his slow rolling thrusts. "You're gonna spoil me."

"You already spoiled me, so it's payback," Jay replied, and kissed her again, Kala returning it greedily.

It was utterly decadent, and Kala felt like she didn't even need to climax, like she could do just this all night. Of course, inevitably, as the pleasure built and built, lightning started to spark under her skin. Kala fought it, not wanting this climb to be over, her brow furrowing and her legs tightening around his hips. She heard her own voice murmuring, "More … more, Jay, _please_…" without even realizing she'd meant to speak her thoughts aloud.

Jay's breathing had become faster, but he was still following that same luxurious almost-languid pace, and he smiled wickedly at her. His voice was rough with pleasure as he said, "God, you're so good, Kala…"

She whimpered, tipping her head back, unable to hold back the wanton arch of her spine. Lord, he was going to be the death of her one of these nights. Why did he have to know her so well? Just hearing that… "_You're_ good, oh my _God_ so good, Jay, the way that _feels_…" It was close, she wouldn't be able to hold it back much longer, and yet Kala still tried to stave off the climax

Until Jay rolled his hips just right, instant and inescapable lightning roaring through her, and breathed across her skin, "_That's_ my girl."

Fulfillment dawned in her like the sun, irresistible in its power, inescapable in its glory. Kala held his gaze as long as she could, letting him see her break, and then closed her eyes at the last possible second, giving a long low cry as she crashed over into pleasure. The world blanked out for her, coming back into focus just in time to savor Jay picking up the pace, the way her own desire echoed in his powerful thrusts. She caught his shoulders as her hunger surged again, eyes on his, whispering, "Come on, Jay, come on, _gimme_…"

As always, that was enough to spill him over, and Jay groaned his climax. Kala held him close, kissing his cheek and shoulder, letting him getting his breath back. She bit her lip against the words she wanted to say so much, and just nuzzled him affectionately, letting her gestures speak for her.

"God, I wanna keep you," Jay breathed, pressing his face into her skin.

_Same,_ Kala thought fervently. "I'm not going anywhere, Red," she told him.

…

Jay was just starting to drift off when Kala nudged his shoulder. "C'mon, we gotta put sheets on the bed," she told him.

"Nah," he replied, feeling warm enough.

"We're not sleeping on top of the mattress cover," Kala said, laughing under her breath. "It's not comfortable."

"'ve slept worse places," he told her, stifling a yawn. "Slept in chairs. Back of junker cars. Slept onna floor without a mattress, even."

"Yeah, well, I haven't," Kala told him, chuckling. "You're in my world now, Jay, and we sleep in comfort. Go sit in the chair while I put the sheets on. You can drag the quilt with you."

Accepting the inevitable, he sat up. The room was chilly, and Kala hurried to her closet to grab a robe. Jay wrapped the quilt around himself to stand up; if she insisted on putting sheets on the bed, the least he could do was help. Kala smirked at him as she headed out the door. "Shame to cover that up. It's a hell of a view."

"I'll show it off when you get back," Jay called, shivering a little and bundling himself up tighter. "This's a nice quilt, though."

"It should be. My stepmother's grandmother made it by hand," Kala replied from somewhere up the hall.

"In that case, I'm glad we fucked under it instead of on it," Jay said. He couldn't help being just a little impressed. His own family had no heirlooms; the Wayne family inheritances seemed largely impersonal. Only Kala's family would have something warm and cozy and useful. He'd seen the Fortress side of things, but Clark Kent's adoptive family, and Lois Lane's family, had deep roots here on Earth.

Jay might wonder why a first-generation alien arriving here chose to live in such homey circumstances, but he thought he understood. Clark's home was impossibly far away, and gone forever. The Fortress was more of what the name implied; a museum and armory to a long-lost race, not a place to live your life. Superman had made himself a place _here_, and clung to it. Maybe it was about time Jay put down some roots, too.

"You're hilarious," Kala said, interrupting that line of thought as she came bustling back in with sheets and pillows and pillowcases. "Lana would have an aneurysm if we stained the antique quilt."

Jay shrugged off the quilt onto the chair, and moved to help Kala with the fitted sheet. "Yeah, I don't think I wanna know how bad _that_ would be," he chuckled.

"You don't have to help, I've got it," Kala said gently.

"I'm not that lazy," Jay replied.

"No, you're that _cold_," she protested.

"I'll live. Slept worse places, remember? Including in apartments with no heat, in Gotham winters. No sheets, and no blankets either, just every bit of clothing I owned." Jay laughed as Kala fluffed out the sheet, catching his side and tucking in the corners. "Shit, when I got with Rose, all I had in that safehouse was a bare twin mattress and one pillow."

He almost winced, talking about Rose in front of Kala, but she only rolled her eyes up at the ceiling and said in amused tones, "Do I have to hear this?"

"Not if you don't want to," Jay told her.

Kala just looked at him with a little smile, tucking in her corners. "Go on and tell me. I need to hear the punchline now. Did she make you buy a set of sheets?"

"There was an APB out for our descriptions, we couldn't exactly make a run to Target," he laughed. "Not like Rose cared. She's been in some places almost as bad as the ones I hung out in. Probably never had spiders crawling over her in the summer like I did, though."

Kala cringed, her face twisted up. He saw the hint of dismay there, likely wondering why he had to go through such things, the frustration that she couldn't fix it. Then Kala smoothed out her expression, and made her tone flippant. The same way he did, glossing over it. "Eww. That's … disgusting, Jay. Why can't you ever have nice things?"

"Got something pretty damn nice now," he teased. "And I've been keeping fresh sheets on my bed in the apartment just for you."

That earned him an acknowledging grin as she got the flat sheet. "Just for the record, I'd fry spiders for you, Jay. Normally I have a 'leave and let live' policy – they leave me alone, I let them live – but I never want you to have to sleep in a shitty spider-infested apartment again. Not when you're with me."

"Maybe I just do it for the nostalgia," he laughed, making her shake her head at him in exasperation as they straightened out the top sheet. "Besides, something tells me you're the fearless spider-killer in your house. Sebast doesn't strike me as the type."

"Fearless spider-_remover_, thank you," Kala said primly. "And he can hit a bug with a flying _chancleta_ any time. Since we're determined to talk about other people we've slept with, though, I guess the next time Rose hits on me, I can just tell her at least I have actual sheets and a comforter on my bed."

That was obviously playful, and Jay teased back, "Rose isn't the type to care. I was gonna be a gentleman and sleep in the chair, let her have the bed. She took one look at the room, knew we were gonna be stuck there for at least three days, and climbed in my lap. Which made the stay even more awkward, because we broke the fucking chair and had no place else to sit."

Kala scoffed a little, smoothing the sheets, and brought over a light fuzzy blanket to go under the quilt. "Sounds romantic. Also, way to make me jealous. We've never broken furniture."

"No, but you put a dent in the wall in the foyer. Still the only woman I wanted so bad I had you up against the wall," Jay told her, and saw the surprised and pleased light in her eyes as he said it. There was that stunned look, the tiny smile, before Kala looked down at the blanket they were tucking in, embarrassed by the compliment, so he added, "Besides, the chair in my apartment I ordered from a Sears catalog, so it's halfway decent. The one in the safehouse was something I found on the side of the road and had to put a deck of cards under one leg to keep it level. Didn't take much effort to break it."

He got another laugh for that, and Jay grabbed the quilt, tossing it over the top of the blanket. "Duly noted. Maybe I'll pull out all the stops when we get home."

"You break, you buy," Jay teased. "Except the wall. I'm gonna frame that dent, I swear."

"You would, heathen." Kala grabbed the pillowcases, quickly stuffing a pillow into the first one.

Jay followed suit with another chuckle. "Aw look, one set of pillowcases matches the sheets, and the other matches the quilt. Two pillows each, too. This is the height of luxury, K."

She just shook her head at him, smirking, clearly done with his shit for the moment. "Oh my God. I _will_ hit you. Shut up and come to bed, Jay. You're ridiculous."

"Just saying, I might not know how to conduct myself with everything all nice and neat and matching," Jay laughed.

Kala shrugged off the robe, which very effectively shut him up, and pulled back the covers on her side. "You'll figure it out," she told him.

The sheets were still cold, but Jay wrapped himself around Kala for warmth. "Guess I will. You've never had a problem telling me what you want me to do, anyway."

Hazel eyes sparkled in the dim room, looking back at him over her shoulder with one dark brow raised. "Jay? Before you get frisky … how many condoms did you bring?"

"_Fuck._" The answer was one – and it was tied in a knot in the trash can, because they'd already used it. Normally he had more stashed somewhere, but he had only brought one bag, and he'd packed clothes and his shaving kit and toothbrush.

She must have guessed the same, from the look of that snarky little grin. "Well, looks like we're going into town tomorrow," Kala chuckled, and leaned closer for a brief final kiss.

But he couldn't fall asleep right away, even as Kala dozed off with him petting her back. It was strange not to hear traffic or sirens—or gunshots, being that he lived in the Bowery. Instead he heard the wind in the trees and a faint, crumpling-hushing kind of noise that he imagined was falling snow.

Even stranger to think that security consisted of an ordinary deadbolt lock on each door, and flimsy window locks without even bars. He could've broken into this place in under ten seconds with just the stuff he carried on him in civvies.

Of course, most vacation cabins _probably_ didn't have a resident Kryptonian guard dog. As snuggly and soft as she was, Jay never lost sight of the fact that Kala was aggressive in her protectiveness. Anyone who tried to break in wouldn't get through five of the ten seconds he'd allotted himself without having an angry Super in their face.

At the moment, she was anything but angry. She was falling asleep, little soft breaths against his chest, her eyes drifting shut before slowly opening again. "So, better than being back home?" Kala murmured with a sleepy grin.

Jay sighed heavily, pretending he was making a major concession. "Yeah, I guess. Kinda miss the nightly symphony, though. This whole _quiet_ thing is creepy."

"It's _peaceful_," Kala said, her gaze a trifle more wakeful. "Tomorrow night we'll go back to busting heads and drinking beers accompanied by a wailing-ambulance soundtrack. Well, after the gala, anyway. But tonight, stay with me in _my_ world, okay?"

The way she said it was wistful, and Jay snuggled her close impulsively. "As long as you're in it, babe, it's worth almost getting eaten by bears," was his gruff reply. There was that silvery laugh, so soft now, Kala swatting lightly at his side.

"Yeah, whatever." Those words, though amused, were half-slurred as Kala cuddled closer into him, reversing the general direction of the embrace. Jay normally preferred to snuggle rather than be snuggled, the way they'd started out. This was nice, with Kala shifting to wrap around him like a limpet. Somehow it felt comfortable when she did it, instead of entangling. The little smile that curved her lips made it that much easier.

He started to close his eyes, and then a sound rose somewhere outside, a lonely howl that put the hair up on the back of his neck. "The _fuck_, you have wolves too?" he hissed, slipping one hand under his pillow. For a frantic second, he thought he'd forgotten his weapons, then remembered they were in the pile of clothes on the floor. Apparently his subconscious mind trusted Kala even more than he thought.

"It's a coyote, Jay," Kala murmured, lifting her head a little without even opening her eyes. The howl returned, with accompaniment this time, and she continued, "They're about three miles away and on someone else's property. Besides, they don't bother people around here."

"They're bothering the shit outta me right now," Jay muttered, and squirmed around to reach for his gun and stick it on the nightstand.

"They get into garbage, steal chickens, and occasionally kill smaller animals," Kala said, yawning. "They don't bother people because folks around here shoot them. Besides, you're in a house, behind a locked door, and in bed with a Super. You're fine. I promise it won't sneak in and eat us in the middle of the night."

Jay huffed quietly. "Fine. I'm not _scared_, mind you, I'm just not used to this. I know how to handle muggers and arsonists and drunk drivers. I'll leave the coyotes to you."

"Go to sleep, city boy. There's probably coyotes in Gotham too," Kala said, and he figured that _had_ to be sleep-talk. No way did wild animals come into the city. Other than pigeons and raccoons, of course. Those were everywhere. Kala stretched and yawned, then curled back up against his side. She felt good there, no matter what noises came from the woods.

Eventually the coyotes stopped singing, and Jay was left thinking about Kala's world, and how he figured no one really knew it was like _this_. His earlier thoughts on them came back to him. Supers were supposed to be all Man of Tomorrow in Metropolis' glass-and-steel skyscraper canyons. Very few people really understand the roots of the story as Kala had explained them in bits here and there: a couple of farmers in Kansas who just really wanted a kid, and who had taken the child dropped on them out of a meteor storm as their own. Simply good people—which was the heart of the Super-legacy. _Be good_. Not justice or vengeance or anything like that. Just, _good_.

Jay didn't kid himself. Kala might just be the best person he'd ever been with. Oh, Donna was definitely way above him, but _Kala_? And she didn't even see it, that was the thing. Hell, a guy could get real comfortable…

He cut off the dangerous line of thought. Guys like him didn't get forever. He rumpled Kala's hair and kissed her temple, and felt like life was perfect just as he followed her into sleep.


	37. Can't You Stay Where You Are

**Authors' Note:** Thank you so much for the reviews. 3 Especially the guest reviewer - you really touched our hearts. Both of us are having trouble differentiating days, too. Coauthor Lois is still on furlough through the end of June, and coauthor Anissa is still doing this weird two-weeks-on, two-weeks-off, but when you're off you're still on call, sort of thing. Sunday as posting day is the one constant in our week, too.

And another big thank you to JamesTKent, who has been there for us from the beginning. We love you, Jim, and look forward to every review.

All of you who come in and leave hits or favorites or reviews are a bright spot in a very scary world. Thank you.

* * *

All of the wiring was finished, and the night's abbreviated rounds were complete. The streets were quiet, and that made Bruce uneasy. He couldn't help feeling as though this was the calm before the storm. Bruce took his time in his post-rounds shower, trying to loosen tense muscles – and wash away that sensation of the city holding her breath. If only every qualm of his could be chased down the drain with soap and hot water.

Tim had come down to the Batcave with him, and was showered and changed first, going to the main computer to check for any updates. Dick had arrived at some point, and as Bruce walked out, his eldest glanced at the screen over Tim's shoulder. "Still nothing?" he said, his voice unaccountably cheerless.

"Nothing concrete," Tim said, and looked at his brother. "Come on up to the kitchen, Dick, I need a sandwich."

Dick perked up a little at that, and Bruce hid a smile. Like himself, Dick needed to feel needed. Tim was perceptive enough to see his melancholy mood, and offer him a constructive way to elevate it. He let them precede him up the stairs, hearing them both murmur greetings in passing. Only when Bruce turned the next landing did he see who was waiting for him.

Selina, always elegant and lovely Selina, wearing _his_ bathrobe and an indulgent smile. She was also carrying a martini, and her favorite cat was sitting on the railing beside her. "Hey there, handsome," Selina purred. "Need a drink?"

"It's appreciated," he told her, and took the martini. He sipped it; dry, two olives, just as he liked it. Bruce couldn't remember if he'd ever ordered a martini while out with Selina. She might've asked Alfred, but he suspected it was something she just knew.

She leaned against the railing, a playful light in her eyes. "I've been feeling awfully _domestic_ lately. Had to stop myself from bringing you your slippers."

"Selina, the day you turn domestic, I'll get hold of J'onn and have you examined for symptoms of mind control," Bruce said, with the little uptick of tone that was as close to laughter as he usually got.

"At least you smiled," she said, and stepped forward into his arms, nuzzling his freshly-showered neck. "Mmm. We might have most of the house to ourselves. We could find ourselves some trouble."

"We really don't have enough of the house to ourselves for that," Bruce told her, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. The last time Selina had baited him into 'finding some trouble,' he'd ending up owing Alfred a profound apology and having to clean the leather couch in the parlor by himself.

Selina laughed softly, kissing his cheek. "Donna left, the Arrow contingent is rooming with their very own mother hen, Kala and Jay are out, Tim's going to live in his room after he's fed, and Dick is … unusually quiet, for Dick." She drew back, looking more solemn. "What exactly is up with our eldest, dear?"

He looked at her for a moment, trying to express disapproval of the joke while simultaneously suppressing a smile. Selina grinned, knowing she'd amused him, and he sighed, deciding to just answer the question. "I honestly have no idea," Bruce said.

Looking alarmed, Selina pressed her wrist to his forehead. "Are you all right? Did Batman just admit there's something he _doesn't know_? Is this the End Times?"

"It's Donna," Bruce explained, ignoring the teasing. "He's always a little melancholy when she leaves. Those two have known each other for a very long time, and it's always hard for him to walk away from her. I suspect it comes from being in the Titans together so young. Various forms of trauma-bonding, essentially."

"Lover, trauma-bonding is the only kind of bonding you Bats _do_," Selina scolded. "Hell, I think it's the only kind of bonding any of you _heroes_ do."

There was some truth to that, Bruce knew. Even Clark, whose family was one of the healthiest and most functional in the League, had a certain degree of forged-in-crisis to his personal connections. "You're probably right."

"I usually am. Seriously, though. What _i__s_ the deal with Dick and Donna? Those two…" Selina trailed off, raising an eyebrow.

"They're best friends," Bruce said simply.

That earned a little chuckle, her brow arching a little. "I didn't pine over my best friend like that, even when I was in high school," Selina pointed out. "You don't pine when Clark leaves, either."

He couldn't help but smirk at that a little. She had a point. "Selina, I don't know what it is between them. It's always been that way, even since they were kids," Bruce told her.

Selina nuzzled close again. "It doesn't seem like sexual tension. My radar for that is usually pretty well-attuned. But they definitely have some yearning going on. Did they ever date? Or sleep together?"

"Not to my knowledge," Bruce said. "Until it affects either of their well-being, it's not my concern."

"Which is Bat-speak for 'shut up, Cat, it's none of our business'," Selina chuckled.

Bruce decided to tread carefully on a conversational track he hadn't yet tried, and simultaneously steer Selina away from speculating about things he suspected Dick wouldn't want them to discuss. "Speaking of friends we miss … have you heard from Harley and Ivy?"

She sighed. "I got a text saying they made their flight. I tried to say congratulations, and the number came back as not in service. So Pam probably broke the SIM card right after she sent it. She's always been better at covering her tracks. And full disclosure, I broke mine, too. I love you, but the girls and I all know you'd try to find them."

Bruce stroked her hair gently. She was right, he _would_ want to trace those texts. Ivy and Harley were too dangerous to be allowed to roam loose, un-rehabilitated. He could still ask if she knew where they were headed, but Selina would inevitably deny it. She was wise enough not to let them tell her … and she'd lie to him if she had any idea. Selina was one of the very few people who could do that successfully. So instead he murmured the next thought that traced across his analytical mind. "It's strange that Kala missed Harley's escape. As keen as her senses are, I would've thought she'd find Harley."

Selina let out another sigh, her breath warm on his neck. "Bruce, honey, the kid is good, but she can't catch _everything_. She doesn't really have that much tracking experience under her utility belt yet; give her a break, Super or not. Harley's a lot smarter than anyone gives her credit for, and she knows you're always watching. She probably took precautions."

"Evading Kryptonians is extremely difficult," Bruce mused. He had planned multiple ways of doing so, if it ever became necessary, but no one was supposed to know there was a Kryptonian in Gotham at present.

"Harley has years of experience hiding from people who want to find her," Selina pointed out. "You, of course, but also Joker, and that woman running the Suicide Squad, Waller. She would've been _extremely_ careful about this. You can't blame Kala for not finding her, Bruce."

Was that what he was doing? Trying to hold everyone else to his own impossible standards? Even Bruce knew that sometimes, despite all the planning and preparation in the world, things didn't work out as intended. There were always a few variables beyond anyone's control. "They spent the vital first few moments of their search looking for Joker," he said aloud, remembering.

"Yeah, and even as fast as Kala is, I know Harley wouldn't hang around the scene if she could help it. She probably bolted as soon as she tossed the match. And you know, the further someone gets from a scene, the harder it is to find them. Even with the address of the cafe where I met the girls, that doesn't narrow it down much." Selina tucked her face under his chin, leaning against him.

"Kala has only been in serious training for six months or so," Bruce said. "Jay knows how to run a search, but he's accustomed to doing so in a vehicle."

"Hard to translate that to someone who can fly like Kala does," Selina admitted.

He decided to let go of that particular line of inquiry, along with the tension of the night's patrol. Bruce caught Selina's chin gently, and tilted her face up to his for one last point he needed to make. "You're glad they got away."

"I am," she replied, meeting his eyes levelly. "I won't lie to you, Bruce. I wanted them to make it out, and I'm glad they're far from here and safe from Joker. Safe from _you_, too. You can't judge me, though. You're always glad when _I_ get away."

He could've argued that it wasn't the same; Selina didn't kill, she was far less dangerous than Ivy or Harley, and most of her rap sheet was simply property theft. No one starved because of what she stole, no one died after crossing her path. But Bruce had learned that some arguments couldn't be won.

Instead, he downed the last of the martini, set the glass on the railing, and swept Selina up into his arms. "Sometimes you don't try very hard to get away," he teased her gently.

Selina laughed, and kissed him. "You're right, you caught me fair and square. Now what're you going to do with me?"

He let himself chuckle, as so few had ever heard him, and reply, "I have a list…"

…

Slow to wake the next morning, Kala wasn't quite sure what time it was when she rose, only that she had missed the dawn. She felt the chill in the air, and realized belatedly that she had packed the throw last night. She should've tossed it onto the bed too, for an extra layer of warmth; if she was aware of the chill, Jay might actually be cold. Opening her eyes, the sight in front of her chased away the faintest hint of disappointment at missing the dawn, and her worries.

Her cheek had been pressed to Jay's chest, her arm draped around him as he slept on deeply. It made her smile softly to see just how wild his hair was the morning after. The most definitive hallmark of their wrecking a bed was his tousled hair. Sometimes – most of the time, given their enthusiasm – it was paired with bruises marking his hips. Kala bit her lip, thinking about that, but Jay always acted like they were merit badges or something.

The level of desperation of getting him closer, deeper, was pretty damned clear afterwards and would occasionally stay for over a week. Typical Jay, who she was growing to know was fond of his souvenirs. Just remembering the way he'd put it the one time she had fretted about it in front of him had her grinning and stifling a snicker. Yeah, you could say that he didn't mind a few bruises, or hickies, or the mark of her nails. The man was hopeless.

Just thinking about that had her reaching out to stroke the back of her hand over the light stubble coming in on his chin. Considering the many, many demons in his past, it always amazed Kala how deeply Jay slept when she was with him. These days he didn't even need to liquor to drift off. She couldn't help but hope that it might really have something to do with her presence, the same way his nearness took her out of herself. Out of the mess that was her life right now.

Watching him sleep was the antithesis of watching him fight or drive her mindless. That said, he'd likely throttle her if he knew that she'd done this a few times now, just observing him at rest. But she couldn't let herself feel bad about it. The hardness, the cynicism, the tension, poured out of him and he looked his age then. Maybe even a little younger. It did things to her heart that she would never let out of her mouth, but she thought them just the same.

Even now, he was so guarded, so many little things that he tried to keep from her. He wasn't actually doing it on purpose; after he had dropped the bomb about his past and his relationship with Talia al Ghul a few months ago, she was pretty sure that he was trying _not_ to unload a whole lifetime's worth of trauma on her. Just the bits and pieces that came up in conversation, which Kala tried to handle lightly. She still ached to think of this amazing man sleeping on a floor in an unheated apartment – as a _child_.

Honestly, as sweet as it was of Jay to put on a brave face, it would be better for him if Jay did just let all of it out. True, there were still shards of her own drama-bomb cutting slivers into her personal and professional life. The whole Sebast situation was still having repercussions that she was having a hell of a time unsnarling. It still hurt, and it would hurt more when they tried to work together again. No matter what else was going on personally, she and Sebast both had a professional commitment to the tour and the label that they had to uphold. And Kala would need his support with whatever godforsaken manager they threw at her in the new year. As long as it wasn't Derek, she'd make it happen somehow. And that didn't even touch the way they were going to have to dismantle their personal relationship or their shared possessions or any of the rest of it. Not to mention, how the two men might feel when they were forced to be around one another. That was a big one. The implications just staggered her when she started thinking about it, stealing her breath away and forming a queasy knot in her stomach. There was just_ so much_…

She could find a way to make it all work without stepping on anyone's toes. Without letting her own heartache interfere, or even show. For Jay, for Sebast, for _herself_, she'd find a way.

That thought in mind, she cautiously leaned forward and pressed the ghost of a kiss to Jay's forehead before quietly getting up to make coffee and get the day started. Today she'd let him get up at his own pace, taking the time to bask in her sun on the porch rather than with her father that morning. She'd soak a little more later, if she could. God knew Jay needed the downtime, whatever argument he would use. Maybe she could even get him to head into town for breakfast, considering the last time they'd eaten had been hurried sandwiches at the Manor in between wiring sensors for him and moving cats for her.

Focusing on her mind on those pleasant prospects, Kala went to the cedar dresser and pulled out the flannel pajamas that she kept here. And reminded herself to nudge the thermostat up on her way to make coffee. She didn't need to give Jay nightmares of Mr. Freeze.

…

Jay woke alone—not a shocking state of affairs, but it took him a moment to remember where the hell he was, and once he did, there was something missing. Namely, a hot Kryptonian cuddled up beside him. Kala didn't always stay the night, she _couldn't_, but she had the whole two weeks off and this was her family's cabin, so where…

A sound from the kitchen caught his attention, his hand automatically sliding under the pillow. But his gun was on the nightstand instead, and it only took a few seconds to realize what he heard was the coffeemaker. His stomach growled a little at that sound.

A goofy grin stretched his mouth in unfamiliar ways. She was up and making coffee already? Holy shit. He knew better by now, but it still amused him that the Goth rocker was a morning person. Must've come from have solar-based powers.

He got out of bed, his back complaining. Twisting into odd positions to wire up sensors, then rolling around in the snow, followed by enthusiastic cardio, could probably account for that. Jay twisted and stretched until something popped and it stopped aching. Then he found his boxers and t-shirt, pulled them on, and ambled toward the kitchen, rubbing a hand through his hair on the way. It was a little warmer in here this morning, finally. Kala must've cranked the heat up.

As it turned out, the coffee was perking all by itself, and Kala was out on the snowy porch, only dressed in a pair of light-colored flannel pajamas he'd never seen before, soaking up the sun. He stopped to stare at her. Something about the way she looked, her head tipped back, her back slightly arched, her eyes closed and her expression blissful … it made him wish the sun was that good to him, too. The fact that she was _outside_, standing barefoot in snow with exactly one layer between her and the chilly temperatures, was another reminder that his girl was literally out of this world.

Jay was still staring when the coffeemaker finished up, and Kala turned her attention back to the kitchen. She caught him staring, and just smiled lazily. That satisfied, knowing expression made Jay turn to the counter so as not to seem so obvious about his ogling.

The door opened on Kala's laughter, and she sidled up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Didja see something you like, Red?" Kala asked, a wicked gleam in her eyes. The flannel pajamas did nothing to detract from that at all.

"Yeah, a smokin' hot Kryptonian chick who can't resist fondling me," he fired back, and slung an arm around her, the coffee forgotten.

That earned him another of those grins, slow and sunny, even in the freezing weather. Still took him by surprise how easily she did that. "Now who's fault is that, Big Bad?" Kala stood on tip-toe to catch a kiss that drew itself out until they were short of breath.

Slipping back down to her normal height, she looked up at him, still enveloping him in her warmth. "So, you're looking a little better this morning. Guess dragging you out here into the snowy wilds may have actually worked. Feeling a little more ready to deal with the gala tonight?"

"Or maybe it's all that good cardio we did last night," Jay chuckled, giving her an affectionate squeeze. It was like holding a sun-catcher in the middle of winter; Kala made everything around her brighter. Cheesy as hell, even in his own mind, but she made him want to be cheesy somehow.

K made him want to be a lot of things, most of which Jay couldn't really express. Worthy of her, for one. His life was a fucking _mess_, and she deserved better. That she came to spend time with him, that she liked him and _wanted_ him, was still a surprise. Add onto that the other l-word she'd whispered half-asleep last month, and his brain tried to freeze up. In the good way, though. Jay thought maybe lotto winners felt like this, toting around the big check for five hundred million or whatever, like it couldn't possibly be real.

He was thinking too much, though, and didn't want Kala to look at him with that x-ray vision and have any clue how much of a mess his head was, too. So instead he kissed her neck, scraping stubble over her skin, and growled playfully. "The snowy wilds aren't so bad, if you're here and there's coffee. Maybe I'll grow out my beard again. And plaid suddenly sounds good to me."

"Okay, fine, we're leaving," Kala said, mock-horrified, and they both broke into laughter.

"Seriously, though," Jay said. "It's a nice change. You don't do anything by halves, K. When you're in the city, you live in Metropolis and fight in Gotham. When you're in the country, you're way the hell out here where the coyotes howl at night."

Those hazel eyes rolled ceiling-ward at that. "This is only like forty miles from Asheville. You can't really help it that you're such a city boy," Kala teased, smiling.

Liking the easygoing, playful flow of it, Jay decided not to mention he'd never heard of Asheville, and just joked, "Nah, babe, I'm all man—and you know it."

Kala leaned as far back as his arm around her would allow, groaning and rolling her eyes even more theatrically. "Oh, _please_. When it all comes down to it, all of you big tough Gotham men are just a bunch of little boys. All your protests aside."

"Yeah, yeah. I love getting lectures on maturity from someone who's two years younger than me," Jay scoffed

"It's a commonly-known fact that _women_ mature faster than boys," she challenged, one brow arched up.

"I was living on my own at thirteen. You still have a room at your parents' place, according to rumor," Jay shot back.

"Yeah? And half the reason you started hanging around the Manor again was so Alfred could feed you. And thank God, someone is. At least _I_ won't starve if I can't get pizza and takeout Chinese," Kala retorted, her chin up imperiously.

They both mock-glared at each other for a moment, until Jay broke out laughing. "What're we, six? You gonna stick your tongue out at me and go 'nyah-nyah-nyah' next?"

Kala stopped and blinked at him for a moment, realizing how easily he'd trapped her. She had the grace to look embarrassed, at least, even as she laughed at him. "Well, you started it."

"Real mature, K," Jay snickered, and kissed her neck.

"Oh, I think we both know how mature I can be," she said tauntingly, squirming away from the tickle of his stubble.

"Last night was _rated_ mature, anyway," Jay said. "Almost makes it worth being mauled by bears."

That earned him the third roll of eyes he was expecting. A moment later she was shaking her head at him. "You know what? If I didn't know better, I'd think you were _chicken_ instead of Robin. Maybe I'll take Dick out here at some point. Doubt he's afraid of bears, being a former circus boy and all." The smile she gave him made it playful instead of cruel, knowing that he'd exact equally-playful revenge for the slight. She turned toward the counter, not quite leaving his side yet. "Anyway, we'd better get you caffeinated, huh? The last thing I need is an unfocused engine of destruction in my kitchen."

"Dickie-Bird's not afraid of bears, but he doesn't like the woods, either. No audience," Jay pointed out. His hand just sort of naturally ended up following the curve of her waist down to her rear, and he couldn't resist giving her a fond squeeze. "Besides, there's already an engine of destruction in your kitchen. Just with caffeine, I can control my powers of total devastation. Without it, there's no stopping me from doing this." He lunged in and mock-nipped at her jaw, growling theatrically.

She had chuckled and leaned in when he had pulled her close, but feigned back when he pounced. "Knock it off, Big Bad Wolf," Kala laughed, swatting at him. "Who knows? I might even get you breakfast before we head back. We could go into town and gack some pretty awesome pastries from the best bakery for miles. I promise that it's civilization, Jay. They have the best wildberry danishes."

"In that case, you've got a date. Danish _is_ pretty civilized," he admitted, letting Kala get to the coffee. Not that he expected her to make his coffee because she was the girl, or any such bullshit. Either of them would smack someone in the face for that kind of thinking, and he'd set up her coffee plenty of times when she was at his place. This was _her_ place, though, and she knew where all the cups and spoons and stuff were, so Jay just hung back and let her do her thing.

"Hey, K," he began, and realized how lame that sounded. Jesus, it even _rhymed_. They were both complete mushballs this morning, acting all goofy and playful like they weren't the two most lethal things for a hundred miles. Must've been the mountain air, or something.

Kala turned to glance at him over her shoulder while stirring creamer into her mug, and he rubbed a hand through his hair again, trying to find the right words. "Thanks for bringing me out here. Little change of pace—it's a good thing sometimes. Couldn't get _too_ used to it." He added the last hastily, and only then glanced up at her.

Those hazel eyes of hers really _were_ windows to the soul, and Jay could see right into Kala just then. "Thank you for agreeing to come," she said softly. "You didn't have to. Could've said no."

"I don't say no to much, when you're the one asking," Jay replied.

Smiling, Kala kissed him … but evidently the sweetness got to her, too, because she pulled back awkwardly, saying, "Let me get your coffee."

"Sure," he replied, wondering when it suddenly got so real between them. Shit, they weren't just acting cute, they were acting damn near fuckin' _married_.

And _that_ was disturbing enough to make him focus on the coffee, too.

…

Kala felt an unwelcome flush creeping up her neck as she passed Jay his coffee and sipped her own. For a moment there, she'd almost forgotten everything but the two of them. This was entirely too homey, almost more like her and Sebast on a typical morning than any relationship she'd been in.

Her intention had just been to take Jay someplace _safe_, and she'd picked the cabin over the beach house because she wanted something Christmassy – and lights on a palm tree weren't cutting it, for her. The cabin was glorious, though she wished she'd had a chance to bring Jay up here in the fall, when the leaves were turning and the mountains were a glorious riot of red, gold, and orange.

It looked lovely in winter, too, the deep evergreens and the weathered logs and the white blanketing snow. There were a few logistics problems with getting to town, though, and addressing them was a good way of avoiding the slight sudden awkwardness between them.

"Do you mind if I drive, on the way to town?" Kala asked.

Jay looked a little startled. "Drive? I figured you'd fly."

"My family's known here. If I show up randomly in town, it's better if they see the car," she replied with a shrug.

He looked outside, thoughtful. "It's your place, K, and your family's car. You probably know more about driving in mountain snow than I do, anyway."

That actually surprised her, from all she had heard of his training. Wait, that couldn't be right. "What? There's something missing from your skill set? Be still my heart," she teased gently.

"I never said I couldn't _do_ it, I just said you probably know more than I do," Jay pointed out. "I'm used to streets that are plowed and salted."

"They do that here, too, but the driveway isn't. Which I need to go melt the snow off before we can drive down. Let me start up the SUV and let it warm up, it's been sitting about a month at this point." Kala downed the last of her coffee, her stomach pointedly reminding her of its emptiness.

"Wait, your stepmother keeps an SUV up here just to use when someone's in town? Why not rent?" Jay asked, finishing his.

"Because it lets us fly in when we want to. People assume we pay for a ride out here and take our own car, and they kind of laugh at Lana having more money than she needs, but no one will wonder how we got here, or how Mom and Dad get here. We're also talking about the woman who hates waiting for her baggage in the airport, so she ships her luggage FedEx wherever she goes. Including internationally," Kala explained.

"Damn, international shipping isn't cheap," Jay said as they put their mugs in the sink, and then they headed back to the bedroom to get dressed.

"Lana's not Bruce, but she's not broke, either. She's willing to pay extra so she doesn't have to worry about things. And I feel sorry for whatever airline lost her luggage, years back, that made her make the switch." Kala chuckled, pulling clothes out of her overnight bag, things that _looked_ warmer than they were. It saved questions about why she was comfortable in just a sweater when everyone else was wearing coats.

She made it out to the garage before Jay, walking around the silver Chevy Tahoe hybrid that Lana had bought a few years ago. At the time, she'd thought it was odd of Lana to buy a used vehicle, but it had only been three years old with very low mileage. And Lana preferred the way it drove to the other, newer hybrid SUVs on the market. Kala checked the tires and all the fluids, looked underneath it to make sure there weren't any leaks, and listened for any unwelcome passengers. No chipmunks in the wheel wells, thankfully, so Kala hopped in and started it. Not having been run for a month, the engine sputtered a little, but finally caught. Kala let it run, leaving the driver's door open, and opened up the garage door to let the exhaust out.

While the car warmed up, she handled the driveway. Shoveling it was out of the question; the total length of the driveway was half a mile. There _was_ a plow attachment for the front of the SUV, which in combination with snow tires and careful driving could've cleared the driveway. But Kala preferred to do it her father's way. The entire drive was shielded by trees on either side, so she simply hovered, using her heat vision to melt it.

Dad could do this a lot quicker, but Kala didn't have as much practice, so she went slowly, leaving the last few feet before the road covered in a few inches of snow. That would make it look more plowed than melted, if anyone glanced up. Safe within the treeline, Kala looked at the winding, little-traveled road and smiled, remembering how Jason tended to just blow the snow off to the sides. He always had to be different.

She soared back up to the garage, and found Jay looking over the SUV with an appraising eye. "Why am I not surprised it's a hybrid?" he joked.

"Look, we're an eco-conscious family," Kala said. "Back in Metropolis, gotta admit, I've got a Tesla."

Jay snorted at that, and Kala didn't mention that technically she co-owned the Tesla. She and Sebast had bought it together, and they split the garage fees too. She just hopped into the Tahoe, and Jay got in as well, frowning. "Are you going to lock up and set the alarm?" he asked.

It was Kala's turn to scoff as she backed out of the garage, hitting the automatic door button hung on the visor. "In summer or fall, yeah, and if we're gone more than a day we lock up. But this time of year, no one comes up here. Teenagers breaking into cabins for fun won't mess with one that's recently occupied. Lots of people out here don't lock their houses when they go out."

"Huh. Wonder what the crime rate is," Jay mused.

"Low, but unfortunately climbing. There's a big drug problem in the area – mostly prescription painkillers and meth, but it's still not like the city. They'll steal your lawn equipment, maybe, but they generally don't do armed robbery." Kala sighed, hating those statistics, but it was a feature of life everywhere these days. Smaller rural communities all over the country ended up dealing with depression and frustration as opportunities went to the bigger cities, which coupled with easy access lead too many people into addiction. It was sad, and she didn't have a ready solution for it.

"You guys do anything about that?" Jay asked, echoing her thoughts. "I doubt it's like Gotham's drug-running scene. I wouldn't know where to start."

"Neither do we, really," Kala admitted, swinging the SUV around and starting down the driveway. "You call Supers when you've got a volcano erupting, or a jet falling out of the sky, or a bomb in a crowded building. We don't get a lot of practice in systemic issues like this. Not to mention, we're trying to keep the Super-presence on the down-low here. For right now, we're putting money into the local economy and education. We pay our taxes, we buy local even when it costs more, and we donate cash and equipment to the school system. Same thing we do with Smallville, really. The problem is, any idiot can swing out here and 'develop' a town, but then you end up with either a cookie-cutter small city with all the stuff you love about the place bled dry and repackaged for tourists, or you go bust in ten or twenty years and leave people worse off than they were before. There are no easy answers."

"Throwing money at education and economy can't hurt, and might help," Jay said philosophically. "At the very least you're not fucking it up worse."

"Yeah, that's the plan. First do no harm. Although you should've seen the amount of hell my good God-fearing stepmother raised when the Smallville school board put out a notice about students with lunch debt. She's the opposite of Mom – Lana doesn't swear, and she doesn't raise her voice much – but she shamed the entire city council and the Smallville Chamber of Commerce. There is no lunch debt in our county anymore." Kala chuckled; she'd been young when that one happened, but since it was published in the local paper when she and Jase were in Smallville over spring break, she got treated to Lana's first indignant reaction and then the twenty-minute diatribe delivered at the city council meeting. The fact that Lana herself had not only paid off the existing lunch debt, but had established a fund from her own money that could feed _all_ the students breakfast and lunch for two months, had really stung the rest of the business owners into contributing.

Having Lois' help to fine-tune her speech with some tips on rhetoric hadn't hurt, either, but it was Lana's staunch delivery of the hook – 'Our children should not go hungry' – that sold it. She'd closed her remarks by saying for the first time in her life she was ashamed to say she was from Smallville, and from the resident success story and multimillionaire fashion designer, that had really hit home, too.

Jay looked sidelong at Kala as they left the driveway for the main road, a two-lane affair. "Shit, your whole family are some kind of heroes, aren't they? Just 'cause not all of them can go pick up a sinking cruise ship doesn't mean they don't try to make the world a better place."

"It's not _that_," Kala demurred. "None of us really think of it that way, Jay. We're just all very opinionated. And yeah, we all want to help people. My stepfather served in the Air Force and got his journalism degree through the GI Bill. My aunt volunteers at the library with adult literacy programs. It's just what we do. I mean, if you've got enough for yourself, you give the next person a hand up. That's how it's supposed to work."

He snorted at that. "Yeah, see? You guys _are_ perfect. Got any assholes in the family tree, or do you chase them out?"

Kala laughed out loud. "Oh, rest assured, there's still plenty of assholes. Me, for one. Mom, much as I love her, there's a reason she's got like six friends and she'd move heaven and earth for them, because most other people can't stand her. Daddy Richard's a great big troll. And God help you if me, Mom, or Aunt Lucy gets pissed off, because we're all hot-tempered and stubborn as hell. We've just got enough people near sainthood to balance us out."

"You realize you're the asshole in your family, and the near-saint in mine?" Jay laughed. "Also, what's up with the whole 'Daddy Richard' thing? I know he's your stepdad…"

"That's 'cause your family puts the diss in dysfunctional," Kala shot back. "And he's my Daddy Richard because he was the only father I knew from age three to age six. If my biological father hadn't come back from space, Mom would've eventually married Richard. In ten years or so. The situation's complicated because when I was six, I got kidnapped by Luthor, and the four people who saved us were all committed to keeping us safe from then on. Mom and Richard broke up, Mom married Dad, Lana married Richard, and I ended up with step-parents who are married to each other. But Richard was always my dad, too, so we ended up with Daddy Clark and Daddy Richard. Slowly, Dad became Daddy and Daddy Richard stayed Daddy Richard. I called him Dad when Dad's not around for convenience, but I never really changed the default and every other variation sounds stupid. So he stays 'Daddy Richard'. I'm never going to just call him by his first name because he's not just some guy my mom dated. Richard White is just as much my father as Clark Kent. Different DNA doesn't change that. He taught me how to ride a bike and bandaged my skinned knees. Not to mention, he memorized our food allergies and learned how to use an Epi-Pen."

"You had food allergies?" Jay asked.

That he didn't know that surprised her. Had she not told him about any of that? Huh. She laughed, amazed she hadn't. "Oh, Jay. I think I told you we were sickly. We were _pitiful_. Jase and I were always in the low end of the percentages for weight. Turns out hybridizing with aliens gives you some weird effects, at least until you can get their sunlight-metabolism turned on. We were allergic to gluten, nuts, certain fruits, and shellfish. Trick or treating was hell; we couldn't have hardly any candy or sweets because they're processed in the same facility as nuts. One time on the way home from school, I ate a Reese's I borrowed from another kid and started going into anaphylaxis. Mom had to stop the car and hold hysterical Jason while Daddy Richard gave me the shot and made sure I was breathing. Then it was straight to the hospital to get loaded up with steroids."

"Jesus Christ," Jay said, eyeing her.

"We lived on macrobiotic shakes and the handful of foods we could actually have. Trust me, rice and snow peas gets old really quick with toddlers," Kala told him. "Plus about twelve drugs and supplements every day. We both had asthma and gastric reflux and weird vitamin issues. Hell, we were both still nursing occasionally up to about eighteen months, whether the three of us liked it or not; Mom's thought was that at least that way we got some nutrition that wouldn't make us sicker."

"That's terrifying. Your mom really is a badass – but you know that. And now you can eat anything, looks like," Jay mused.

"Dad's theory is that our immune systems were out of whack. When we got kryptonite poisoned, he had to take us up into the sunlight, higher than we'd ever gone even in Daddy Richard's plane. Somehow that flipped a switch and kick-started these cell organelles we have that process sunlight and give us our powers. So we got a functioning immune system that stopped trying to attack the 'alien' cells, and invulnerability enough that allergies just weren't a thing. The problem was, then we started picking up powers at a faster rate." Kala shrugged. Sometimes it was hard, even for her, to remember being so sick and weak when her life was so much smoother now.

"I never really thought about that. How much harder it must've been for hybrids to survive, let alone grow up to be heroes." Jay sounded thoughtful.

"We got here in the end. I just hope it's easier for Elise's kids. If they're sickly like we were, we can try the sunlight cure, but we're all hoping that with them being three-quarters human, they won't have as many sensitivities and reactions as we did." Even now, with Elise due in a matter of weeks, Kala shivered a little at the thought.

A comfortable quiet descended on them both as Kala drove. The big SUV had four-wheel drive and good tires for gripping the road; she kept it under the limit, driving carefully around the dips and bends in the road. Jay watched the scenery flow past his window, and every time she glanced at him he seemed rapt. Mostly they saw bare trees or stately evergreens cloaked in snow, but every so often there would be a break in the trees revealing a snowy meadow with a house or a barn perched near the top of the hill.

The county road they were on eventually crossed a larger thoroughfare, and Kala turned onto the four-lane highway easily. Jay stirred a little, looking at the granite mountainside bedecked with ice on one side of them. "How far exactly are we from town?" he asked.

"About three miles from Hot Springs, where the cafe is," Kala told him. "I figured we'd stop in, get a drink and some danish to go, then drive on to Marshall. That's another twenty minutes on, and the county seat."

"What's in Marshall?" Jay asked.

"The grocery store, and a couple restaurants," Kala said. "We could do brunch. Danishes will take the edge off, but I'll still be hungry. There's a little waterfall not far off the highway, we could stop and take a walk, enjoy the scenery."

She wasn't really expecting Jay to jump at the notion of hiking, city boy that he was, but he just shrugged. "Might as well. I've never been out here before, K. You gotta tell me what people do up in the mountains in winter."

"Ski. Hike. Go horseback riding. It's kind of the slow season for tourism, except for skiers. There's not a lot of hikers or riders, either, but most of the major attractions close down during winter." Kala found herself intrigued by the thought of getting Jay to go skiing. It wasn't a sport she had much experience with, just an amateur herself, but she loved the speed and the beauty of the snowy mountainside flying past.

He nodded, smiling. "Skiing looks like fun, but then I wonder how it feels to hit a tree at those speeds. And I gotta tell ya, I'm not much of a horseback riding kinda guy. Iron ponies only. Figures you like animals, you'd be into horses."

"I learned to ride on mules, but yeah, I know enough to go trail-riding safely," Kala told him. They were pulling up on the intersection at Hot Springs, which featured a gas station on one corner, beside the cafe. Another two miles up the cross-road was the resort with the thermal springs that had given the town its name. In the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century, these mountains had been _the_ resort destination for wealthy people up and down the East Coast. That had faded with increasing air travel and huge amusement parks opening up, but Kala still enjoyed the mountains. She didn't need dinner theater, roller coasters, or three t-shirts for ten bucks. She loved the green stillness of high summer and the autumnal blaze of the leaves and the profusion of spring wildflowers. And, of course, the austere snowy beauty of winter.

Kala pulled into the cafe, and Jay looked across the intersection at the Rite-Aid there. "Hey, let's swing through the drugstore after," he said with a little twinkle in his eye. "I need to replenish my condom stash."

She barely contained her laughter. "Let's not. We can get them in Marshall."

"Why not?" Jay asked, confused by her snickering.

"You'll see," Kala told him, and got out, heading into the cafe.

He followed her, confused but willing, and gave a start when the bells on the door jangled. The young woman behind the counter looked up and broke into a broad grin. "Look who's back in town!" she called. "How's the rock star life treatin' you?"

"Exhausting as ever," Kala replied, strolling up to the counter. "I had to break away for a breather. How's college, Nat?"

"Still passing, so I call it a win," was the cheerful answer. "What can I get for y'all?"

Kala smiled at the hint of southern drawl. "Two coffees, please, and four danishes. Huckleberry and apple, for me. Jay, what do you want?"

He looked nonplussed. "Same, I guess."

Natalie looked him over with quick interest, but if Kala wasn't volunteering to explain the strange man at her side, propriety wouldn't let her ask. As she bagged up the pastries, she did ask, "How long are y'all stayin'? I can make up a breakfast pack."

Kala didn't have to fake her sad smile. "It's just an in-and-out trip, so we're gone tonight. I wanted to show off the family place. And see if the new boyfriend could handle himself in the woods."

Jay, predictably, responded to that, saying, "New?" in questioning tones.

"Since the last time I've been up, last spring," Kala explained. "Nat, this is Jay. I found him wandering around Gotham City and made the mistake of feeding him. Jay, this is Natalie. Her uncle owns the cafe."

"Pleased to meet you, hope we see you around more often," Natalie said with a broad grin.

"Nice to meet you, too," Jay said, still looking sidelong at Kala. She managed not to smirk at him as they took the pastries and two piping-hot coffees back to the car.

Once they were inside, with the doors shut, Kala finally told him, "_That's_ why we're not buying condoms at the Rite-Aid. I guarantee you at least two people saw the car, and knew someone from the Lane-Kents or Whites or Troupes was in town. If I walk into Rite-Aid with a man they've never seen before and pick up a box of Trojans, they'll talk about it for six months. Which I really don't care about, but I don't need anyone fishing for gossip from Dad or Lana the next time they're here."

"People really get up in your business like that?" Jay asked, wide-eyed.

She laughed a little at that. "It's a small town, Jay. There's less than six hundred people living here. Everyone knows each other for a reason. Smallville's bigger, but it's the same way. They're not really up in my business, it's friendly interest."

"Okay, I heard about small towns, but I didn't really know. I would go batshit in a week," Jay said. "Friendly interest looks a lot like gossipy bullshit."

"This isn't Gotham, where you just grunt at your neighbor at the mailbox. People know each other and care about each other. Their kids go to school together. They see each other everywhere. I'm just the occasional visitor who sometimes brings a bit of interest with her. If they talk – and Nat's not a big gossip, but this is news – it gives them something to talk about besides the weather." Kala got them headed back down the highway toward Marshall. The county seat was a little bigger than Smallville, nothing Jay would recognize as a city, but it had the advantage of anonymity.

"I've never lived anywhere people were like that," Jay mused. "I do my thing, they do theirs, and we only deal with each other if we have to."

"These people _have_ to deal with each other," Kala pointed out. "We're an hour from the nearest trauma center, and the sheriff's department is a lot smaller than any police department you've dealt with. If someone goes out on the snowmobile and gets lost, their neighbors will call search and rescue when they don't come home. If an elderly woman falls in her house and doesn't come sit on the porch for an hour like usual, the neighbors will come check on her. People look out for each other. It's just how small towns are."

Jay's eyes sparked with insight. "Maybe it's the small town look-out-for-your-neighbor mentality that creates people like your dad. Only for him, the whole _world_ are all his neighbors."

"Probably. I do know one thing, I'd be real worried if Dad had landed anywhere else," Kala admitted.

"Shit, me too. I don't even wanna _think_ about your dad with a typical Gothamite's attitude," Jay laughed.

Just the thought made her cringe. No, just no. "God, that'd be a nightmare," Kala replied.

That comfortable quiet landed on them again, and Kala kept sneaking glances at Jay out of the corner of her eye. He was alert and watching their surroundings, but not the way he did in Gotham, or even Hong Kong. She was accustomed to Jay making a quick, practiced scan of every room, even in the Manor, and when they drove he was always checking his mirrors and the traffic alongside them. It wasn't anxiety, just a level of awareness and readiness that she'd grown used to with him, something Jay only turned off late at night and alone with her.

Strange, that she was the one who was half-alien, who had the biggest secret to keep, and she didn't feel anywhere near as hunted as Jay did.

The oddest thing about today was that Jay seemed to have finally turned off his automatic threat-assessment. He was along for the ride, not bored, but not trying to look out for upcoming trouble. Kala realized that he was trusting her not only to make all their plans today, but to watch out for him as well. That quiet unspoken trust rattled her to the core. Jay didn't even trust _Bruce_. If he was trusting her, it both made her nervous, and had her primed to annihilate anything or anyone who looked crosswise at him.


	38. Icarus to Your Certainty

**Authors' Note:** We're glad that you're invested in this story and our heroes. Be forewarned, though, there's a bit of a tone shift coming next chapter. If you've read us before, you know we don't do this much fluff unless we have something hidden up our sleeves.

It will all work out right in the end. If it's not all right, it's not the end. Of the series, anyway.

There should be a couple of rather hilarious moments in this chapter, anyway, so we'll all have some sweetness to savor when real life intrudes.

* * *

Jay watched the fields and hills flow by the window. Kala was a pretty good driver; weird, considering how she flew. If he had that power, he might just fly everywhere and forget how to drive. Being in a car with her driving was new.

Honestly, it was all new to him. The way Kala's family were about things was just so … _relaxed_. 'Yeah, sure, bring your new boyfriend who was recently a villain out to the cabin. Borrow the car while you're at it.' Actually, he wasn't even sure if Kala had even told anybody about it, but she sure didn't seem worried about them finding out. This was just an accepted thing, that a twenty-something with powers could be _responsible_. On the other hand, Bruce would've grilled him fifteen ways from Sunday on what exactly he was planning. Even Babs and Dick were a little too interested in what Jay was doing. And then there was the way Lois Lane reacted to him; Superman himself was surprisingly calm about his daughter dating Red Hood, but Lois actually teased him about it.

It was a kind of family life that he could actually kinda _like_, the more he was around it. Well, except her brother who probably still wanted to smear him into the ground, but other than him they all sounded okay with the situation. _Not_ what Jay had expected from Supers.

Then again, what he expected was the Fortress, stark cold beauty. Not handmade quilts and small-town friendliness. Maybe that was the key to the Supers' legacy after all. Not the powers, the heart. Kinda scary for someone like him to contemplate.

Just then, Jay's phone rang, and he rolled his eyes to see the name on the screen. Glancing at Kala, he said, "It's Dickie-Bird. I'm gonna troll him."

"You say this like you don't troll _everyone_ who calls you," she snarked back with a laugh.

Jay didn't dignify that with a rebuttal, even if it was true. Grinning, he answered the phone in a low, smooth voice. "Velvet Touch Massage Parlor, we _never_ rub you the wrong way."

A pause, and then Dick's thoroughly confused voice said, "_Jay_?"

The shocked tone was loud enough for Kala to hear, making her snort and shake her head at him. Glancing his way, she mouthed 'such a Robin'. That got Jay laughing harder than Dick's confusion alone warranted. "Who the hell else?"

"You are a sick, twisted man," Dick told him, but he was laughing, too. "I just called to check in, see how you're doing, make sure everything's okay."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just needed some space," Jay replied. There was still a deep, simmering anger in him, aimed at Joker, but he was learning he could put a lid on that and let it bubble away, not interfering with his present situation. It was as if he'd boxed up Gotham and all its problems, and shoved the whole mess on a shelf somewhere to focus on K and this little adventure.

Dick sounded pleased with that answer. "Good, good. So what are you guys up to?"

Jay snorted in amusement. "Oh, we're somewhere up in the mountains in North Carolina, middle of Nowhere, driving to a bigger town so no one will recognize Kala buying condoms with some guy they've never seen before. How's your day going?"

"Dammit, Robin, _hush_! He doesn't need to know that!" Kala scolded. She'd been giving him the side-eye ever since he answered the phone, not quite trusting when he was up for cat-and-mouse, and now she took one hand off the wheel to lightly thwap his shoulder.

"I did not need to know that, but shame on you for not coming prepared," Dick laughed again, clearly amused as well as horrified. "And both of you guys gonna make it back in time for the gala, right?"

"Look, I have condoms stashed in all my safehouses and my vehicles, but I only had one in my wallet," Jay replied. He heard Kala chuckle, and continued, "I've got the fastest pilot on the East Coast, Dickie-Bird. We know the stakes. Black tie or not, asshole Clown or not, we'll make it to the Mistletoe Masquerade."

"The _what_?" Kala yelped, laughing. Ah, so she hadn't heard it yet. Big Brother was in for it now.

"Oh, come on, no one even calls it that," Dick laughed.

"Bullshit. _Everyone_ calls it that," Jay shot back.

His girl didn't _quite_ get the joke yet. "So, this gala we're going to has two names? Sounds complicated," Kala offered, raising an eyebrow even as she kept her eyes on the road.

"The Wayne Enterprises Holiday Masquerade Ball is a nice, generic, non-offensive, very PC name," Jay said, for both of them. "But it's a mouthful. So, many years ago, Mr. Wayne's quippy young ward started calling it the Mistletoe Masquerade. _That_ stuck. It's never on any of the official signage, and you couldn't get Bruce to say it to save his life, and _Dick_ won't call it that because he's embarrassed. Everyone else calls it the Mistletoe Masquerade."

"I'm not embarrassed. It's just not the right name," Dick said, trying not to snicker.

"I heard from Babs that you were trying to call it the Jingle Ball. Now _that's_ embarrassing." Jay couldn't help grinning as he gave Dick grief for it.

"I was like twelve, gimme a break," Dick tried to defend, but it was too easy to hear him fighting off his own amusement. "Look, Jay, I just wanted to make sure you were coming. I know you'd rather be roaming the woods with Kala…"

"More like soaking in the hot tub, _naked_, and watching the snow fall and listening to the fucking coyotes," Jay cut in as Kala blindly swatted at him. "What do _you_ have on offer again?"

Dick continued patiently, "It's an important event. Personally _I'd_ rather be naked in a hot tub with a gorgeous woman, but you can't do that twenty-four seven. If nothing else, you'd prune to death."

"Then we go upstairs and snuggle under the quilt," Jay chuckled. Kala was still darting disbelieving glances at him, and he enjoyed being able to mess with both of them. The gala was a pain in the ass, really. Too many rich people crammed together, showing off how utterly shallow and fake they all were. He'd rather be in the Bowery. Shit, there actually were some decent people in the Bowery, if you knew where to look. The only reason he was going to the damn party was the opportunity to dance with Kala … and the off-chance of seeing Joker, getting a chance to throw that asshole back in Arkham.

Or a morgue.

"Jay, you said you'd go," Dick scolded.

"I changed my mind. I'm calling in sick."

He had to cover the mouthpiece to hide his laugh, and Kala just shook her head at him, smiling even as she shot him a scolding look. "You did, and we are. Stop harassing your poor brother, Red."

At last Dick got into the spirit of things, and said in a deadpan tone, "Nope, no good. You used up all your sick days. Bring your sorry butt in."

"Fine, I'll just call in dead. Worked once before," Jay shot back. Kala hissed his name and poked him in the side for that.

"What? Look, I'm allowed to make zombie jokes," Jay complained.

Dick sighed theatrically. "Kala, I know you can hear me. Just have him here in time, okay? Don't let him distract you."

"How early do you need us there?" Kala asked, pitching her voice to carry to the receiver without being overtly loud. Running with a professionally-trained singer had unexpected benefits.

"It's not until seven, so be here by five-thirty or six so we can set up," Dick said, with a certain smug satisfaction in his voice.

Kala grinned warmly at that, the smile warm and affectionate. "No worries, Dick, I'll get us there with more than enough time. Won't take us twenty minutes to get home."

"Go on and gloat, Golden Boy," Jay said indulgently. Dick had never seen both of them dressed to the nines and at the top of their game. They razzed each other a bit more before signing off, and Jay sighed deeply. It had been a long time since he'd felt this content anywhere except in bed after a good night of patrol, with warm scotch in his belly and Kala snuggled up beside him.

They pulled up in what he finally recognized as an actual town – more than a handful of buildings and a crossroads. To his surprise, his training took a glance at the surroundings and dismissed all of it as harmless. Normally he would've at least noticed the average fitness of the people around him, whether anyone moved like a trained athlete or martial artist, if anyone seemed to be armed. Jay did that even in the diner back home. Here, he saw boots and jeans and rugged-looking coats on men and women alike, pickup trucks and sensible sedans in the parking lots, and an easy-going sort of manner from everyone. Nobody here was secretly working for the League of Shadows or any kind of super-villain. No one could possibly recognize him. None of them had any clue that Red Hood and the Blur were strolling among them. _He_ was armed, Jay would no more walk outdoors without a gun and two knives than he would walk out naked, and Kala was always armed by virtue of what she was. But it didn't matter. Neither of them were going to need it, here. They could just be themselves for a while.

Kala stopped in at another Rite-Aid, busier than the one in Marshall, and picked up a few things: a pair of gloves with reindeer on them, some Christmas candy on clearance, one of those weird air freshener things that plugged into the wall. And then she stopped by the 'family planning' aisle. Jay couldn't quite stifle his snort of amusement. "Shut up, where do you get yours from?" she muttered at him, picking up a box of Trojans.

"I buy mine online," Jay told her.

"Of course you do," she sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Seriously though, 'family planning'?" he asked as they headed toward the registers.

"That's what I always see it listed under. They can roll it up with the pregnancy tests and ovulation tests and the fertility supplements and not have to actually put 'condoms' on the sign," Kala replied, glaring at him.

Well, that made some sense, and Jay got in line with her. The person at the register was having a lively conversation with the cashier, something Jay wasn't used to seeing in stores. No one else in line seemed to be bothered by it; the woman in front of them was scrolling through her phone, and the man in front of her carried his basket with a nonchalant air. Jay noticed the guy was about his own height, with similar black hair, but he held himself in a far more relaxed manner.

A little kid went running past them all, and Jay didn't even flinch at the high-pitched laughter. Kala glanced up, but rolled her eyes indulgently. "You sure you're up for a hike in this weather?" she murmured.

"With you? Sure. If I fall in the river you can fish me out," Jay replied, keeping his voice soft like hers. "Just feed me first. And then we can head back for another dip in that hot tub."

"It _is_ addictive," Kala said, smiling a little. "I've fallen asleep in it before."

"Don't worry, I won't let you fall asleep," Jay said, grinning.

Even relaxed, he was still peripherally aware of his surroundings. So he heard the slightly-harassed sounding mom tell the little kid, "Go hold Daddy's hand, I'll be right there in a minute." Jay didn't pay any particular attention to it, until the clatter of little footsteps stopped beside him, and a small mittened hand grabbed his.

Jay _did_ startle then. He didn't do what training demanded, though; Kala wouldn't appreciate him whirling around and pulling a knife on a kid. He looked down, eyes wide as saucers, and a little dark-haired girl looked up at him in obvious surprise.

She'd be _really_ damn surprised if she had any clue she'd just walked up to the most – well, second-most – dangerous person in the whole freaking store.

Jay did the only thing he could think of, and said, "Hi."

Her eyes only got wider; the strange voice and accent probably didn't help. Luckily, Kala saved him, leaning around him. "Oops, sweetheart, I think you got the wrong guy. Is that your dad, two people ahead?"

The little girl swiveled her head, and Kala's voice still carried, so the guy two people ahead in line turned to look. "Laura, come here," he said, a little chuckle in his voice, and she released Jay's hand to happily skip to her father's side. Looking up, he nodded to them. "Sorry about that."

"She's adorable," Kala said, and the dad smiled at them both.

Finally letting out the breath he'd been holding – visions of a small child yelling 'You're not my daddy!' and having to fight their way out of the store dissipating at last – Jay turned to Kala and quirked a brow. "Thought we were gonna have a moment there."

"Nah, it's fine. You worry too much, Jaybird. Kids are rambunctious. Probably happens a thousand times a day, all over the world," Kala said easily, shrugging the whole thing off.

He scoffed a little. "Still damn near gave me a heart attack."

She chortled at him. "Speaking of heart attacks, Jay, when we were seven, Mom took us to one of the big department stores. Usually we were good about sticking close, and even when we wandered, Jase and I stayed together. This particular time, I saw a lady with a really cool Nightmare Before Christmas purse that I liked, so I walked away from Mom and Jase and strolled right up to her. Stood there staring at her purse until she noticed me, and when she looked down I just gave her a big toothy grin and told her I liked her purse. Her and her husband couldn't have been much more older than we are now; they were more confused than freaked out. The lady asked me where my mother was, and I just kinda shrugged – I could hear her, so I could find her. Meanwhile _Mom_ was ready to call in the National Guard. This was only a year after the whole business with Luthor. But these people didn't look scary, so I just walked right up."

"God, you were bold as hell," Jay said, shaking his head. The line moved forward, and Kala smiled.

"It was a cute purse. And I scared them more than they scared me. Besides, I could've gotten away if I wanted; the speed was already kicking in. Most little kids are pretty trusting, if they're not shy. And I was never shy." Kala glanced at the girl, and her gaze softened.

Jay cocked his head. Kala got really protective of Julio's pack of kids, and she was tender with the little girl just now. A question popped into his head, and he was so chilled out he just asked it, without thinking about it at all. Hell, there was next to nothing he couldn't say to Kala, she knew all his secrets. So the instant it occurred to him, Jay asked lightly, "You want kids?"

Kala swiveled her head to him, her eyes wide, and damn near dropped the basket she was carrying. That was enough time for Jay's internal censors to come online and blare a huge warning; that was _not_ something he wanted to ask! What the hell was _wrong_ with him?! Holy crispy shitting _fuck_!

She blinked, probably seeing the panic in his face, and managed to laugh. Kala glanced meaningfully at the condoms in the basket, and told him with a self-conscious smile, "Obviously not _today_."

It took all of Jay's self-control not to burst out in wild laughter in the middle of the store. _Not today,_ for fuck's sake! What the fuck, shit, now what? How the hell do you play that off? "I didn't mean _now_," he managed to say, knowing his cheeks were flushed. If he was lucky, people might think it was windburn. "I didn't even necessarily mean _us_. It was just a general question. You're good with kids, you obviously like 'em."

"So're you," Kala pointed out, which only deepened his blush.

"Nah, I don't know the first damn thing about dealing with kids. See, that near-panic just now," Jay replied. "Besides, I asked you first."

Kala shrugged thoughtfully. "I do, yeah. Eventually. The rock star life isn't exactly conducive to a stable child-rearing environment, so it's a ways down the road. And I always figured I'd adopt."

The line moved, and Jay stepped forward alongside Kala. "Makes sense. Because your dad was adopted?"

She got that hunted look in her eyes again, as if she was almost afraid to answer. "That, and honestly, everyone's pretty sure it's gonna be really difficult for me to get pregnant," Kala explained, though she looked like she couldn't believe she was talking about this. But she went on, lowering her voice, conscious of people around him. "With my family history, there's fertility issues. Jase and I are both pretty much miracles, and it took a lot of trying for him and Elise to get pregnant. It'll be even more difficult for me."

Now that Jay thought about it, that made sense. The whole hybrid thing must've made it all more challenging. And then he thought about invulnerability and super-strength, and looked at the condoms in the basket again. "Huh. Do we even need those?"

It was Kala's turn to blush, and she bit her lip. "Well … better safe than sorry, right? Especially now."

"What's special about now?" Jay asked, his brow furrowing.

Again with the shy look, steadfastly not looking at him. Now that was interesting. That little huffed laugh, her blush just intensifying. "Let's just say this week is a good week to be _extra_ careful," Kala managed, and then another cashier opened up, so they had to move anyway. The whole transaction was fast, although friendlier and folksier than Jay felt comfortable with, and then they were on their way out to the parking lot. He'd figured it out by then. The ovulation tests in the 'family planning' aisle were kind of a big hint.

Most of the women he'd been with had been on some form of birth control, but Jay always used condoms, so he hadn't really learned the intricacies of various methods. He was responsible for his side of it, and let them make their own decisions. He hadn't thought about how things might different because Kala was half-alien.

And it was weird, the way that knowing she was probably ovulating right now made him want to take her back to the cabin immediately. Not that he had any intentions of getting her pregnant – Jay shuddered at the thought – but this had to be the time when she wanted sex the most, right? It just made biological sense. And he had the privilege of giving her what she wanted.

His girl hadn't said a word since they'd left the registers, still avoiding his gaze when they got in and got going. They were about a half-mile up the road before she broke the silence. "Finally got too weird for you?" Kala asked, in a carefully deadpan voice, and Jay realized he'd fallen silent.

"Nah, I just realized I never asked if you were on birth control. I was indoctrinated into the Church of Always Condoms, Every Time, so I never got around to asking that," Jay replied. He grinned at her. "You got me good with 'not today', I gotta admit."

That brought her around, those gorgeous eyes mischievous. "Yeah, well, I'm going to remember that. It _was_ a helluva zinger," Kala told him, smiling proudly.

She shifted the Tahoe into a higher gear, and Jay leaned back in his seat. He decided to return to the conversational track they'd been on at first. "So, you're gonna adopt a kid or two eventually. Makes sense, especially if having them is harder for you. I wonder about the whole parenting-as-a-hero thing, though. What do you _tell_ your kids? _When_ do you tell 'em? What happens if they're in kindergarten and tell the teacher Mommy's a superhero?"

Kala shrugged. "Kids say wild stuff all the time. And maybe I'd adopt an older kid. By six, Jase and I understood we had to keep Dad's identity a secret."

"I can't imagine keeping a secret that big, that young," Jay mused.

"We dealt with it. I figured out real quick I had to hide my powers, too. And then we waited to tell my little sister, but it turns out she figured it out before we blew it. I've got time – I'm not planning on looking into adopting for at least ten years or so. Maybe fifteen." Kala spoke calmly of it, and he knew this was something she'd thought about seriously.

Jay did some mental math, and said, "In fifteen years you'll be almost forty, K. Guess you'll _have_ to adopt an older kid, if you don't wanna be dealing with teenagers in your fifties."

Her expression changed, becoming more serious and a little sad. "I'm not real worried about it. According to Jor-El, we're going to age slowly. Dad got a little of the premature-gray gene, so he looks the age he's supposed to, but as long as he's under a yellow sun, he could live a very long time. And no one knows exactly how it'll work out for us. We're pretty sure we won't have to deal with a lot of debilitating symptoms though."

She glanced at him, and Jay felt a whisper of unease in his gut. "Yeah, well, Lazarus Pit reset here, too. No telling if that added a few years to my total, either. I'm not planning on going back for seconds when I get my first gray hair, either. Assuming I make it that long – we do a lot of risky shit, K."

"Yeah, but you have a lot of power watching your back," she reminded him with a stern look. "And I like this planet a lot better with you on it."

"Way to feed my ego," Jay chuckled.

They stopped at an intersection, and Kala turned to look him full in the face. "I mean that, Jay."

She might as well have said the words, right then. It meant the same thing. And he knew what he would say back to her, now, if she did voice it while they were both awake and had no excuses. Instead of taking the plunge, Jay sidestepped the serious moment, because they _were_ getting a little too intense for what was supposed to be a day off, and just said, "I like the world with you in it, too."

Kala smiled at that, and took the turnoff. She pulled up in front of a cafe that looked a bit like the diner back home; not a chain, locally owned and operated, maybe a little worn around the edges. He smiled at the sight, and Kala chuckled. "I can't wait to find out what you think of cheese grits, biscuits and sawmill gravy, and country ham."

Jay raised an eyebrow. "Who eats ham for breakfast? And 'grits' doesn't even sound like food."

"Southerners. Don't diss grits, I love them," Kala said, with a spark of challenge in her eyes. Jay decided he might as well trust her with food decisions along with everything else.

…

Harley figured she was settling in pretty well, all things considered. Getting here a couple days ago had been interesting, but once they arrived, everything was quiet. Pam hadn't told her where they were going at any point on the trip, and Harley figured that was fair, so she hadn't pushed. At least Pam had unshackled her when they got to the airport in Gotham.

That trip was a longish cargo flight, no windows to even gauge where they were headed. Harley had huddled with the boys, shivering, until they landed in the afternoon someplace far west and high up in altitude. The air was thin and cold, even more bitterly cold than Gotham, and the view was astonishingly flat, with some distant mountains off to the west. Not Pam's kind of place, Harley had thought at the time, and her bewilderment must've been obvious.

"We're not staying here," Pam had said, with a little smile. "Just a few days, long enough to meet our financiers and conduct our business."

"I don't think Batsy would ever guess we'd come someplace like this," Harley had replied. She narrowed her eyes as she glanced around. "Is that a barb-wire fence? Are we out in the Wild West?"

Chuckling, Pam had told her, "This is Denver International Airport. I think Denver is rather more New Age meets hipster than cowboy country, these days, but it _is_ the West, still. Come on, our ride is waiting."

"I gotta let the boys out," Harley said, and Pam nodded. All of their luggage had been carefully unloaded while they got out and stretched their legs, and was already being reloaded into a cargo van that was parked and waiting for them by the same no-nonsense, no-questions burly guys who'd been on the flight with them. A shiny SUV was parked in front of the van, and a couple of antsy-looking business types were standing next to it. Their contacts, Harley figured as she went over to the two big airline kennels that had just been offloaded.

Bud and Lou started whining immediately, and Harley soothed them as she spun the combination locks on their kennels. One of business guys looked over, and asked worriedly, "Do you need a leash for them?"

"Nah, they come when I call 'em," Harley replied, and then for effect she added, "Mostly."

The two men looked at each, and at Ivy standing calmly by, before the first one asked, "Is that … safe?"

Harley couldn't help laughing, and Pam didn't scold her, so she figured she'd play into it. People who were a little scared of you were less likely to try and screw you over. "Buddy, you're standing within fifty feet of Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn. You passed 'safe' a while back. Don't worry about the boys, I won't let 'em eat you. Unless you deserve it."

The hyenas showed little interest in the men, galloping around the flat snowy field. Still, one of the business guys said to Pam, "We're not looking for any trouble."

"Neither are we," Pam told him calmly. "The hyenas have been crated since last night. They need a chance to stretch, too. Just don't make any sudden moves, and they won't bother you."

"Understandable," the one guy said. "Did you have a good flight?"

"No cause for complaint," Pam said with a shrug, and Harley began to get the idea that these guys weren't used to working with metas – or masks. They both seemed _awfully_ nervous. And who ever asked about a _good flight_?

"Good. We brought the up-front payment, as requested," the other guy said.

Pam nodded. "Thank you. Gentlemen, you don't need to worry. We _really_ have no interest in making our presence here known. I'll need a day or two to settle in, before we can get the work done. But I do appreciate your courtesy." Harley felt her eyes damn near bugging out of her skull; Pam was _never_ that conciliatory. She was fucking _Poison Ivy_, she demanded respect – and got it. Then again, these two might just piss themselves if Ivy and Harley didn't play along with the normal-business-people act.

Of course, just as everything was loaded and Harley was getting ready to call the boys back and kennel them up, Lou decided to approach the two business guys. The taller one stepped back a little, but the shorter guy held his ground, looking more fascinated than scared. "They're actually really cool-looking," he said, and started to hold out his hand.

Lou leaned forward to sniff … and delicately closed his teeth around the fingertips of the glove. One sharp pull, and he yanked it off, cantering away with his prize. "Hey!" the guy yelled.

"Sorry, that's his glove now," Harley said apologetically. If Pam could play nice, so could she. 'Don't scare the normies' wasn't her favorite game, but she could be good at it. "Real leather, right? They love leather. You don't wanna know _how_ many shoes I lost when they were teething."

Bud loped up to Lou and snatched at the dangling glove; in seconds they'd torn it apart. The business guy looked chagrined, but not too pissed off – or scared. Pam just sighed. "Sorry about that, gentlemen."

"That's all on Neal," the taller guy said. "Trying to pet the hyena? Really?"

"Hey, he didn't bite me," Neal said.

The tall guy just shook his hand, and then stepped forward, as if that incident had broken the ice somehow. "Anyway, I'm Stephen, this is Neal. I hope you had a safe trip, Ms. Ivy, Ms. Quinn."

"Just Ivy," Pam said, with a slight lift of her eyebrow at the formality of his manners.

Harley scoffed. "If you _really_ wanted to suck up, you shoulda led with _Dr._ Isley and _Dr._ Quinzel. I didn't spend eight years in medical school for _Ms_."

"My apologies, Doctor," Neal said quickly.

She laughed a little at that; these guys were so _tense_! "Nah, I'm just messin' with ya. Harley's fine. Keeps us all on first name basis, nice and cozy. Pleased to meet you guys."

Pam nodded, and Harley got the boys off the glove and into their kennels in the back of the van. She kept a sharp eye out; Pam hadn't told her what these 'financiers' wanted, and Harley didn't exactly trust them. Hell, if it had been anyone but Pam, she wouldn't have gone to an unknown destination and chatted up a couple of strangers, not without making sure they really understood who they were dealing with first. Preferably by breaking someone's nose.

Maybe a chewed-up glove made the same point. It could've just as easily been the guy's hand.

Honestly, for anyone but Pam, she _never_ would've agree to fly this blind. The whole trip was one long trust fall, in a way. Every new twist was another chance to ask what was going on, to demand some answers, and each time Harley chose not to. Pam didn't play mind games. There were no roundabout 'I didn't tell you because I expected you to ask, and you disappointed me by not asking' sort of tricks in their relationship. She might answer, if Harley asked, the way she'd answered where they currently were. For the moment Harley was content to trust her, and not asking questions proved that she trusted Pam to handle everything.

Pam walked around to the back of the SUV, and Stephen popped the trunk to hand over a briefcase. She opened it in front of him, looked at the bills inside, and nodded in satisfaction. "Very good. I'll make some arrangements, and see you both in two days."

"Thank you," Stephen said, and Neal actually waved to Harley before they drove off.

Pam added the briefcase to their luggage. Harley finally let herself ask a question. "Do these guys have _any_ idea what they're doing?"

"They're leaders in their field. But their field is completely legitimate, above-board, and legal," Pam chuckled. "So they've never dealt with anyone like us before."

Harley snickered. "Really jumping in at the deep end, huh? I almost feel sorry for them."

"They shouldn't give us any trouble, at least," Pam replied. "Come on, let's find this house I'm renting."

"Ooh, nice," Harley said, hopping in the passenger side. "Seems a little weird to rent a whole house for a couple days."

"It's a weekly rental, and I wanted room for the boys. We're well off the main roads, too." Pam looked up directions in the new phone she'd bought on the way out, and started driving out of the airport lot.

"Y'know, I wouldn't mind living in the sticks, maybe," Harley opined as she looked out the windows. "I read this article about how the Midwest is being invaded by lesbian organic farmers. That could be us. I could drive a Subaru."

To her surprise, Pam laughed out loud – not something she did very often. "_Harley!_ You would go stir-crazy in a week, love. And I'm not planning on staying here. I've got one more stop to make after this, and then if no one is trying to follow us, we can make long-term plans. I wouldn't do _that_ without your input."

"Pam, I'm fine with you runnin' the show," Harley said earnestly. "I mean, the last few years, you've known what was best for me better than I did."

That turned things serious again, as Pam looked over at her. "Harley, you can't blame yourself for that. And it's not as if I didn't have an ulterior motive. I thought _I_ was best for you."

"Well, you are," Harley said with a little shrug. It seemed perfectly self-evident to her.

Pam just smiled, and fell quiet as they drove. Harley leaned against the window, looking forward to whatever the next adventure might be.

…

After breakfast, Kala took Jay out for the promised hike to work off the calories. Biscuits and sawmill gravy _were _delicious, and the salty country ham was almost as good as bacon, but he couldn't get with grits. Then again, he hadn't liked polenta in Italy, either. It was a texture thing. Kala didn't mind, that left more for her.

The road Kala took looked like any other twisty two-lane in the area. They parked in a spot scooped out of the grassy shoulder, just a car-length of gravel. Jay raised an eyebrow; a partly-frozen stream ran alongside the road, and he could see a spot to cross over just ahead. "Is this a real hiking trail?" he asked.

"Yeah, but not one of the popular ones," Kala said. "It connects with an old railroad track that goes up to the Mountains-to-the-Sea Trail, and _that_ crosses the Appalachian Trail. This one's mostly known to locals, and hiking addicts who want to explore everything they can. It does bring you to a nice waterfall, though."

Jay opened his door and looked out. They'd been winding through mountains and foothills all day, and from what he could see the land rose up on the right. Evergreens and bare trees mingled together, and the air was cold and crisp. The ground was patchily covered in snow; wherever the sun shone through the trees, it had melted, but every shadow had a shallow coating of the white stuff. All he could hear were distant cars and the trickling stream. There was nothing like this anywhere near Gotham.

He stifled the urge to ask her if she knew exactly where they were going. Worst case scenario, she could soar up and find the car. He wasn't exactly going hiking with a typical suburbanite. Jay stomped on his worries, checked to make sure his boots were laced up tight, and followed Kala as she walked toward the crossover.

She turned and glanced back at him appraisingly. "You've got good tread in those boots, right?"

"Shit, are we rock-climbing?" Jay asked.

"No, but it might be a little slippery," Kala replied. She tilted her head, and really _looked_ at him, and he guessed she could see his unease no matter how he tried to hide it. "Jay, we don't _have_ to go hiking if you don't want to. I'm fine with heading back to the cabin and making hot chocolate."

He sighed and closed the distance between them, knowing he had to word this just right. He didn't want to hurt her feelings, and Kala read him too damn well. "It's not that, K. I wanna go because _you_ wanna go, and this is all about hanging out in your world, right? Well, your world includes hiking."

"You still could've told me you don't like it," she said, taking his hand. "Really, Jay, it's fine."

Jay squeezed her fingers, and admitted, "It's not that I don't _like_ hiking. It's just that I haven't _done_ a lot of it. And I'm a little cautious about roaming the woods where I don't know exactly where I am, and I _do_ know there are bears and coyotes around."

"Bears hibernate," Kala said affectionately. "Jay … I'm surprised you didn't do wilderness survival training, before. I wouldn't have thought anything in these mountains could rattle you."

He scoffed lightly. "I _have_ done training. But I don't have any survival gear on me right now. If I was by myself, or with anyone else, I wouldn't go, because we could get lost and no one knows where we are. But I'm with _you_, and first of all you're the most dangerous thing in these woods. Second of all, you can fly out if we do get lost. So it's really safe, it just feels like it isn't."

Kala smiled softly at him. "I would never take you anywhere actually dangerous. That said, it seems weird that you're uneasy in the woods."

Jay took a deep breath of crisp mountain air, smelling of fir trees and snow. "Yeah, well … it's a good thing Bruce _did_ insist on some survival training. You know what happened to me right after I clawed my way out of the Pit? Ra's was losing his shit wanting to kill me, so Talia shoved me off a cliff into the river and I had to walk out of the middle of nowhere with exactly one bag of gear. She got me some more training later on, but it's never been my favorite thing. I'm a city boy, I guess."

"You're _my_ city boy," Kala told him. "And you shouldn't have needed to go through that. You shouldn't have had to deal with _any_ of it."

He could only shrug. "Getting tossed in the Pit is the only reason I'm not a fucking vegetable, K. And getting pushed off a cliff is what it took to keep me alive when Daddy Demon wanted to rip my head off for it. I can't be too mad about either."

"You shouldn't have needed to go searching for your mother all by yourself, either. And she shouldn't have handed you over to Joker. None of that should've happened to you," Kala pointed out.

"No, it shouldn't have," Jay said, and felt something in his chest loosen a little at the admission. Kala beamed at him, too, like he'd finally gotten something she'd been trying to impress on him for a while.

"It won't happen again. Not if I have any say in the matter," Kala informed him.

Jay smiled at her easy reassurance. "Well, if I can trust you to have my back in Gotham going up against every crazy asshole in town, I guess it's not much of a stretch to trust you to lead me up a mountainside."

Laughing, Kala tugged gently at his hand. "Come on, city slicker. It's not quite a mountain, but the view is worth it."

Fifteen minutes later, after winding through the woods and scrambling up a couple of hills, Jay walked around a corner to see a frozen waterfall in all its icy glory. The dark granite bones of the hills were draped with a lacy fringe of icicles, and the tall evergreen trees still held snow. It was utterly quiet except for the trickle of the water beneath the ice, and their own breathing.

As it so happened, he'd held Kala's hand throughout the hike. There was no one around to see them and snicker, plus she was steadier than he was. His usual athleticism didn't kick in until about halfway here, when he'd finally gotten used to the rougher terrain. Even potholed roads and neglected rooftops weren't quite as uneven as tree roots and gravel. For the moment, the pair of them just stood there admiring the view, their breath frosting in the cold air.

Jay couldn't help being struck by how profoundly foreign this was to him. Even Hong Kong, a completely different culture and language and cuisine halfway around the world, had been easier for him to navigate, because he knew his way around cities all over the place. But this, this timeless peace and natural beauty, made him feel a little out of place. He was keenly aware of his knives and the gun stowed at the small of his back, and how his motorcycle boots really didn't give the kind of grip he needed out here.

Then again, Kala had done the hike in fucking _heeled_ boots, because that's what she happened to have on when they left Gotham yesterday. No risk of a Super breaking an ankle on the trail, and if she slipped she could just hover anyway. Sometimes it wasn't fair.

Something clicked for Jay, and he was surprised enough that he said it out loud. "No wonder you like this place. With the snow and the icicles and the way the trees close in overhead, it's almost like the Fortress."

Kala tipped her head back, considering. "That's funny, I never thought of it before, but you're right. It does feel like that. Almost like a cathedral."

"Don't get religious on me," Jay joked lightly, and Kala laughed. That wonderful, silvery, open laugh of hers fit right in with the gentle sound of the stream and the diffuse light filtering through the trees. If anything, it made the moment even more perfect.

Kala leaned up on her toes and kissed him; her lips were warm and soft. "Tell you what, Red. Since you were nice enough to follow me out into the scary winter woods, how about we head back to the cabin and I'll warm you up?"

Jay smiled slowly. "Are we talking about hot chocolate, or good cardio?"

"We still have a few hours," Kala said, her eyes dancing. "Why not both? If I didn't actually scare you off with the science lesson earlier?" One dark brow rose questioningly, watching his reaction.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close, and replied, "Both works for me." And then kissed her laughing smile.


	39. That We Steal as the Curtain Falls

**Note**: In authors' news, coauthor Lois has been recalled to work. The majority of her customers are NOT wearing masks. Dear readers, please, PLEASE wear masks and follow social distancing when in public. Coauthor Anissa is still on an alternating shift schedule, and is now facing the prospect of two weeks home alone for eight hours a day, instead of two weeks in the constant company of the person she loves most in all the world. You know how dogs with separation anxiety will howl and scratch up the doors? It's like that.

In fic news, we hope you enjoyed the fluff and warm fuzzy feels. Now it's time to buckle your seatbelts, friends, and keep your arms and legs inside the ride.

* * *

As they soared over Gotham, Jay couldn't help making comparisons. After the bright, cheery scenery of North Carolina, his city looked even more depressing than usual. Soot all over the place, snow churned to slush by traffic, people huddled around burn barrels for warmth in the poorest neighborhoods, it looked gray and cold and cheerless.

It was still _home_, and that still meant something to him.

They swung by his apartment to change clothes and get ready. Everyone was driving separately, and the Manor was already wired, so they were meeting in the reserved parking deck nearby. As she touched up her makeup, Kala began to nibble at her lip, looking worried.

She turned nervous energy into teasing, as usual. "How do you guys explain every big charity event being a masquerade ball? I _know_ it's for plausible deniability and being able to skip out at a moment's notice, but what's the party line?"

"This is Gotham. People like wearing masks," Jay joked back, buttoning his shirt.

"You're saying all of Gotham is a twenty-four-seven showing of _Eyes Wide Shut_?" Kala asked, smirking.

"You gotta be a masochist to live in this town," Jay laughed. "I'm sure some folks think Bruce has a kink for it. Who cares? It's just the kind of fancy-dress drama that people like."

She rolled her eyes at that. At least this was more black tie masquerade, and less costume ball; they didn't have time for anything as dramatic as her Snow Queen costume. Before leaving the mountains, she'd already taken a quick flight to Venice for authentic masks. The one she chose was a colombina style, heavily embellished with gold curlicues. Beneath the eyes, the mask was white and painted with musical notes, appealing to her day job. Above that, it was half red and half black, a nod to who she and Jay _really_ were: the Red Hood with his iconic helmet, and the Blur with her black uniform and domino.

Jay had consulted by phone – Venice in twenty minutes was no kind of speed for him – and as much as he'd wanted a red bauta mask, it was too much like his helmet. Just because Joker probably knew their identities was no reason to go giving any hints to John Q. Public. In the end he'd gone with a black eye mask, something as far from his domino as possible. Not as if many people had ever seen Red Hood without his helmet, anyway. Kala had teased him about being boring, though his mask did have some gold scrollwork on it to tie in with hers.

"Just so you know, I'm definitely not one-upping myself," Kala said, still looking uneasy.

"That's not the point. We're getting out of the house to bait a trap, and getting a free meal and some dancing in the bargain," Jay said, trying to figure out what was up with her.

She sighed. "I'm trying to have a little bit of fun with this, Jay. Not everyone hates social events. But I warn you, I'm going to look plain."

"Never happen," he said staunchly.

"Jay, I don't have any jewelry for this," she explained. "I've got nice earrings but not Wayne Gala nice. The Snow Queen outfit was put together and planned ahead of time, but I don't actually own a lot of expensive jewelry."

He looked at her thoughtfully. He didn't give a shit about having fancy cufflinks for himself, but if she cared about presentation, well, now it was his priority too. "Hell, we don't have time to go shopping. Wait – we know someone who's got more jewelry than anyone has a right to."

Kala cocked her head curiously as Jay picked up his phone and dialed. With her hearing, she'd get both sides of the conversation. Selina answered, and Kala grinned to recognize her voice. Jay said, "Okay, this is _not_ full repayment for the almost-forty cats running around my place, but we need a favor. Kala didn't bring any jewelry fancy enough for tonight's event. Can you hook us up?"

"Put her on speaker," Selina said, and Jay did.

Putting down her eyeliner, Kala said, "Hi, Selina. Thanks for helping out."

Jay could hear the thief's smile in her answer. "No problem. What are you looking for? Gold, silver, or platinum? Diamond or gemstone?"

"I don't wear gold or diamonds," Kala replied. "Honestly, I trust your taste. My dress is burgundy, and I'm wearing a white, black, and red mask."

Selina chuckled. "Oh sweetheart, don't trust my taste. I can't resist bling. Hmm, you don't wear _any_ diamonds, or just no diamonds as the central stone? Because I do have a set of emeralds in platinum that would look good with your eyes, but they're set off with diamonds."

"No major bling, I hear there's going to be at least one master thief at the party," Kala teased. "Emeralds sounds good. And thank you, Selina."

"You're welcome. Bruce wants everyone to meet up, so I'll bring the set. Necklace, earrings, and bracelet. Take care of them, I actually paid for these."

Kala gave a snort of laughter and signed off, shaking her head. Jay was about finished getting dressed, and she finished up her makeup with a lipstick as deep red as her mask. He smiled to see her looking excited again. This was much more her sort of deal than his, but he'd have fun watching her. "You're gonna knock 'em dead, K," he said playfully.

"And if you're lucky, Mr. Todd, I'll let you see what I'm wearing under this dress," Kala taunted. He caught her up and kissed her neck, letting her struggle away with a merry laugh. That'd be a fitting end to the night, Joker snoozing his way to Arkham while Jay peeled that dress of his girl.

They got it together long enough to head to the venue in the Charger, with uniforms stashed in the trunk. There was always that possibility that things wouldn't go as planned – and Joker wasn't the only psycho in Gotham. Kala hadn't worn dancing shoes tonight, going for the stability of boots. Jay certainly liked having her closer to his height.

Bruce and Selina were waiting for them in the parking deck. "The rest have already gone in," Bruce said reproachfully.

"Sorry I don't drive as fast as she flies," Jay replied with a shrug. They weren't late, just not as early as the others.

Selina, meanwhile strolled up to Kala and gave her a hug. "I love the dress."

"It's the one I told you and Donna about. Jay got it for my birthday," Kala said, preening a little under the compliment.

"Oh, nice. I do love a man who knows how to buy clothes," Selina purred, smiling.

Jay glanced at them, and did a double-take; somehow Kala was wearing a necklace and bracelet. "Holy _shit_, Selina. I never saw you touch her wrist!"

As Kala checked her wrist, and then her neck in comical surprise, Selina crossed her arms and pouted at him. "One, if you ever _see_ me working, it's because I _let_ you see it. Two, if you'd kept your mouth shut another five minutes, I could have the earrings in, too." She held out them to Kala, who took them with murmured gratitude and slipped them in.

Bruce just sighed. "Fan out and behave naturally. No sneaking out of the party this time, Jay. Babs is monitoring the security sensors and cameras. I've got communications running through my phone."

Jay fought down the urge to respond with a salute, or a snarky 'Aye aye, captain', and just nodded. "Got it."

Bruce eyed him warily, evidently having expected sarcasm, but eventually he just nodded. "Good. We'll go in first. I don't want it to seem as if we all arrived together."

"Go for it, we'll hang back," Jay said, and waved to them both. Selina tucked her hand in the crook of Bruce's arm, and they strolled toward the elevator.

Jay just sighed and looked at Kala. "We're the only rich family in town who doesn't use valet parking. Bruce spreads the rumor that a valet dented his Aston Martin years ago, so now he always parks his own."

"It suits," she said with a shrug, lightly touching the platinum emerald necklace at her throat. "C'mon, let's head in."

"We have to. If I keep looking at you in that dress, we'll never make it out of the parking deck," Jay teased, and was rewarded with her laughter again.

They walked slowly, going down the ramps instead of the elevator to give Bruce time to get ahead, and made their way inside. He guided her toward the dance floor, only for Dick to waylay them, grinning beneath a blue and gold mask. "Aww, you two match," he crooned.

"Shut up, Dick," Jay groused, but he was smiling. "The blue's nice. It reminds me of something, though."

"I look good in it," Dick said, preening. "Could be worse. Bruce and Selina both decided _not_ to wear masks at all. To the _Masquerade_ Ball."

"If she can't wear a cat mask, she won't wear anything," Jay groaned, realizing what had been missing from their ensembles.

"Yeah, she's having fun though. I just watched her put someone else's Rolex on Bruce's wrist. He made her put them back." Dick shook his head, and Kala smiled indulgently. Jay figured he'd have to warn her at some point; Selina was so very charming that everyone tended to forgive her foibles, even while she played at lifting valuables. It didn't mean she would refrain from stealing from them for real.

Meanwhile Jay looked critically at Dick. "So where's your plus-one? Even if Dinah decided not to go, I'm _shocked_ you couldn't find someone in this town to be seen with you."

Dick grinned at him for that. "Actually, I _was_ lucky enough to bring one of the loveliest ladies we know. Here she is right now." He stretched out a hand, beaming.

Dinah laughed as she took his hand; she'd worn black and gold tonight, with the same Venetian style mask. "We did arrange this in advance, you know. And since I couldn't pry _my_ lady away from the computer, I might as well let myself be seen in public with a handsome younger man."

"Oh, like it's a hardship to be seen in public with you," Dick chuckled.

She gave him a fond smile in return. "There was a time I would've fought someone to go to a dance with you. Then I actually _met_ you."

"To be fair, you met Babs first, and she's a hard act to follow," Dick pointed out, still smiling.

Dinah shrugged. "Very true. Besides, I'm lucky if I can get her to one of these things every other year. At least she gets to spend time with Roy and Lian while we're here."

Kala just folded her arms and smirked at them. "You two are ridiculous. At least you prove that Babs has great taste."

"This is why I love you," Dick told her, patting Kala's shoulder. It was honest … but there was a little spark in his eyes as she laughed and hugged him.

Jay directed a mock-glower at both of them. "Dude, you bring your ex's girlfriend as your date, and then flirt with your brother's girl. You have _issues_, Dickie-Bird."

"We all know that," Dick said, deadpan. "Also I've been flirting with Kala since before you ever met her."

"The lot of you have issues," Kala pointed out "All of you together could keep a psychiatrist busy for _years_. That said, there's no one else I'd rather go to a fancy-dress ball with."

"Good, because you fit right in, Kala, and what does that say about you?" Dinah teased.

"I'll never be bored?" Kala said with a laugh, elbowing Jay. She grinned up at him, and he smiled back.

As they settled in, Dinah showed Kala a photo on her phone of Roy and Lian, both in red and gold masks. "Even if they're not here tonight, they still got to dress up. Of course, you went and got the fancy masks. Where did you even _find_ those?"

Kala smiled and told her, "Venice. Little shop right up from the Rialto Bridge."

"Of course," Dinah laughed. "Frequent flyer miles, huh?"

"You could call it that," Kala replied, sliding her arm around Jay's waist.

He draped his around her shoulder, and said, "Anyone seen a waiter? I came here to dance with a gorgeous woman and drink champagne someone else paid for. And since we're all complimenting each other's dates and outfits instead of dancing, I need some bubbly."

"You _dance_? I bet that's horrifying," Dick said, wrinkling his nose. He was obviously joking, he knew full well that ballroom dance was included in the Robin package.

"Just give me waltz time, Dickie-Bird, and I'll put you to shame," Jay laughed.

Kala elbowed him again, laughing. "Come on, you heathen. Let's find some champagne."

No one mentioned the real reason why they were all out here tonight. It seemed like even speaking Joker's name might cause him to appear.

…

Tim honestly hated these gatherings. It all seemed so pointless. Oh, he _knew_ why they had charity balls and things like that. There was a certain purpose to it all. But _his_ participation felt pointless. He was only here to be looked at, to be one of the Wayne boys. No one who spoke to him or danced with him or even gossiped behind his back knew anything about who he really was.

He kept his polite mask on, doing everything that was expected and nothing that wasn't, while wishing for something _real_ to do. Something useful. Tinker with the programming on the Batmobile's self-driving function, or hunt down some of the shadier deals going on in the city. It was very interesting that Black Mask was still in prison, after all, he should've been able to make bail by now. The evidence against him was stacked very high this time, his trial loomed ever closer, and he might _actually_ go down for this one.

Tim nodded and smiled at the young woman he'd just spoken to, and turned to see Dick looking worriedly at him. "You okay, little bro?" Dick asked, looping an arm around his shoulders and leading him away from the crowd.

"Sure, why wouldn't I be?" Tim asked, befuddled.

"Because you just agreed with the councilman's daughter that reality TV is a valid genre," Dick said, sounding very concern.

"It's valid under the definition of a genre," Tim replied, replaying the conversation he'd tuned out of. "I'm not saying it's _art_. It doesn't need validation, anyway, it exists only to sell ad space, and it does that very well. People always slow down to look at a car wreck. Same concept."

"Okay, _that's_ my brother," Dick sighed in relief. "I thought we lost you for a minute."

Dick was the only one who _liked_ these things. He was a social butterfly, and for him it was a nice change of pace, to not be constantly on guard for a few hours. Tim didn't begrudge him that. It didn't change his own opinion at all. "I'd rather be anywhere but here. You know that. Don't blame me for zoning out."

"Look, Tim, just think of it as a relaxing, drama-free evening. Even _Jay's_ acting semi-normal," Dick pointed out.

"He has Kala here. The last time he saw Kala in a mask, they ended up glitter-bombing the garage," Tim pointed out dryly.

"Okay, true. But it's not without its charms. There are a lot of attractive women our age around, y'know." Dick waggled his brows teasingly.

Tim just rolled his eyes. "And I highly doubt any of them compares to Cassie's intellect or her courage. Thanks, but no thanks. Go play the field. Or plow it, whatever it is you do."

Dick wheezed laughter, slapping him on the back. "Holy _crap_, Tim, you only make like four jokes a year but _dang_ when you do… I'm keeping that one. Wow."

"You're welcome," Tim replied with just the barest hint of a smile. With Dick, you just couldn't help it.

"You could've invited Cassie," Dick said, leaving the sentence dangling.

Tim was aware that Kala would've liked to see her, and he himself would've been a thousand times more comfortable with his girlfriend here. But no, it wasn't to be. "Family stuff. I can't blame her mom. Cassie's always running a million miles a minute. The week between Christmas and New Year's is just mother-daughter time." Honestly, he was relieved; he didn't like to bring Cassie in against something like Joker. The thought brought back too many reminders of Steph. Cassie was a lot harder to hurt, but she was more confident, too. And it was overconfidence that had been Steph's downfall.

Dick nodded, thinking he understood. A thoughtful expression furrowed his brow. "I never asked. Isn't it weird, you dating Cassie? I mean, Jason's your best friend, and he dated her first."

"It's only weird if you make it weird," Tim said firmly. "It'' possible. You and Jay finally got over this about Donna, after what seems like a lifetime to everyone else."

Dick looked hunted, as he always did when that got brought up. "Tim, Donna and I never dated."

"Sure, right. You're just best friends," Tim said, too flatly, looking out over the crowd instead of at Dick himself.

That clearly didn't sit well with his older brother, as he was pretty sure it wouldn't. "Look, if you don't know the difference between dating and friendship, I need to have a talk with Cassie," Dick said in bluff-threatening tones.

As always, Tim knew it was for what it was. "I'm well aware of the difference. You're the one with the problem, Mr. Serial Dater." He kept his tone light, not wanting to call Dick on the possessiveness between him and Donna. It didn't seem to be something either of them were really aware of, despite the way that, this Christmas trip and every Christmas trip, Dick always brightened with Donna's arrival and moped pitifully after she left.

Everyone assumed because Tim had never been girl-crazy and wasn't breathlessly interested in gossip, that he didn't understand relationships. On the contrary, he saw more than anyone else realized, and evaluated it with an unflinching eye.

Most people conducted their affairs sloppily. He and Cassie had a much more sensible arrangement. Anyone else they'd dated had nothing to do with their relationship now, and he didn't see why other people let it matter. So he and Jason Kent both appreciated extremely intelligent, brave, beautiful women such as Cassie. He liked Elise, too, and if they'd met each other when both were single, he might've asked her out. It just hadn't happened that way, and he could see why Jason was deeply in love with his wife without being weird about that. Why would he be weird about Jason and Cassie? They were better off as friends and they both knew that. Cassie and Tim worked out well as a couple.

He truly didn't understand why everyone else had to have so much angst and jealousy and denial and all the other weirdness in their relationships. It was all just _messy_, and Tim abhorred mess.

…

Jay danced with Kala, and it was different than the art gallery. Or the masquerade ball way back in September, for that matter. They'd danced in public before, but never in front of people they knew – not when those people knew it was _them_. He was aware of Dick's goofy smile every time he glanced their way.

Kala bopped his shoulder, that snarky little exasperated look on her face, and Jay realized he was frowning. "Stop it," she said warningly. "It's Dick, isn't it? So he ships it like FedEx. So what?"

"K, if he goes and draws hearts on my car windows in borrowed lipstick, I'm gonna kill him," Jay said, but he smiled. It really wasn't a problem.

"I will take care of Dick. Now _stop_. You're gonna give me a complex." Her tone was teasingly wheedling, but her hazel eyes were serious, looking up into his own. Well, not that far up, when she was in heels and she was pretty tall to start with. He still had a couple inches on her, anyway.

"Oh, God forbid you get another complex," Jay murmured. "Besides the bad-boy fetish you're working on."

As he expected, that made her grin. "Need I mention you and the epic romance you have going on with your Beamer?"

"It's not a Beamer, it's a BMW motorcycle," Jay replied quickly, and realized he'd been maneuvered.

"It's a Beamer," Kala retorted with a smirk, and he spun her, making her laugh. She felt like … the next best thing to heaven, in his arms, and he felt like he could do this all night. Even with Dick so deliriously happy about them being together, all dressed up and in matching masks.

"Whatever. If Dick smiles any harder people will think he's stoned," Jay muttered. "Tim just keeps glaring at us like he thinks we're gonna fuck on the dance floor."

Just for that, Kala caught him by the chin and laid on hell of a kiss on him, a hand slipping into his hair as she did. _Damn_, he couldn't get enough of her! Jay barely remembered to keep swaying to the beat, his hands drifting lower on her back. When she finally pulled back – and adjusted his hands – Kala had a mischievous smirk on her lips. "If they're gonna talk, we might as well give 'em something to talk about, hmm?"

Jay got his feet moving again, mostly so they didn't prove Tim right, and grinned right back. "Yeah, well, we have to scandalize Tim every once in a while. It's important for his social development. As for Bruce…" He trailed off, looking for Bruce, and wasn't surprised to find him and Selina dancing like they were in their own little world. Jay shook his head. "Bruce wouldn't notice if we _did_ fuck on the dance floor. For a guy who can't commit to one woman, he's damn sure hung up on the one he's with."

Kala sighed. "I don't understand Uncle Bruce," she admitted softly. "Who _wouldn't_ want to make an honest woman of Selina? I mean, God, she's delightful."

"Annnnd I'm never leaving you alone in a room with her again," Jay teased, making her roll her eyes at him. "Seriously, though, Selina doesn't _want_ to be an honest woman. Look, if Bruce ever said 'marriage' to her, she'd puff up and run away like a cat who just heard 'bath time'."

The mental image won him a silvery laugh. "Jay! Oh my God, you're terrible."

"Not that terrible, since you're still hanging around me," Jay said lightly. And never mind any thoughts of commitment that had been stirred up by talking about Bruce and Selina. _Jay_ wasn't afraid of commitment. He did take things seriously. He just didn't believe in talking about it, because saying it was inviting the universe to kick your teeth in.

"Yeah, well, I kinda like hanging around you. God only knows why," Kala murmured. The words were still light, but her eyes had gone soft and thoughtful.

"Must be 'cause I'm such a good dancer," Jay said, with a salacious wink to make sure she knew he didn't really mean _dancing_.

Kala shook her head indulgently. Jay's mind flashed back to the night they arrived at the cabin in North Carolina. Up in the mountains, far from the city lights, the woods around the place so damn _quiet_ it would've been eerie, if not for Kala by his side. And the snow falling gently around them both. Not the bitter sleet mix of Gotham, the snow there fell like something out of a movie. Or a fairytale. And he'd been standing in the middle of it, with Kala's hand warm in his, snowflakes caught in her jet-black hair. That moment was engraved in his memory.

Jay knew fully damn well he couldn't live like that all the time. The worst crime in the neighborhood was, what, Bobby Ray getting drunk and stealing his neighbor's lawnmower? His talents would be wasted there. And he wasn't an outdoorsy kind of guy, anyway – the waterfall had been beautiful, but Jay wasn't as comfortable in the woods as Kala. He'd gone hiking for her.

But it was exactly what Kala had offered: one night in her world. And her world was the _whole_ world. The bright city lights anywhere on the planet, and the quiet places in between. Kala had a kind of freedom very few people did. Even Bruce, with all his money and technology, took tedious hours to cross the globe. Kala could do it in minutes, if she pushed herself.

Hong Kong in two hours. North Carolina in fifteen minutes. With her, he could go anywhere and do anything. To Jay's surprise, he found himself content to be wherever she was. No place held as much of his interest as she did. Even the cabin – seriously, a log cabin in the backwoods of the Blue Ridge mountains, the very _last_ place Jay ever thought to find himself – had been a good time, a relaxing night and day and morning. Because she'd been there.

And with all her power, with the ability to be anywhere she chose including occasionally the _surface of the moon_, Kala opted to come to Gotham. His town. This filthy, fucked-up city full of criminals and madmen, the kind of place that should've been anathema to a Super for the smog alone, and Kala came here every chance she got. It wasn't just a bad-boy fetish, no matter how much he teased her, and it wasn't just the sex.

Jay just felt right, at her side, and he figured she felt right at his side. Like a matched set of pistols, perfectly weighted and balanced to function together. Equally dangerous solo, but designed as a pair.

Oh, man, he'd better not think too hard along those lines, with her in that dress he'd bought her and a glass of champagne warming his belly. Kala just brought out all of his softer instincts, although what he was thinking at the moment wasn't _soft_ at all. And the tuxedo pants weren't cut to hide his state of mind.

Kala looked up at him steadily, her hazel eyes so deep he could get lost in them. Strange to think she could look right into him, see past his skull with such lovely eyes, and Jay wondered if his brain might have all the things he dared not think too clearly about written on its surface for her to read.

She knew all the bad stuff, all the worst things that had ever happened to him, the worst he'd ever done. She knew every drop of blood caked into his hands. And she still looked at him so softly. Kala, who had turned down Empress of Earth and murdered possibly the most dangerous threat her father and the whole planet had ever faced. Jay knew all about her darkness, too, knew exactly where she'd been broken and healed a little crooked. And still, she could look at him like _that_. It was a kind of courage that almost shamed him. Kala still believed in things like _happily ever after_. She knew better than to say it to him, but he knew. He'd seen her eyes when she was stripped bare of everything but emotion, and he _knew_ what she felt for him.

Jay hoped she knew the same about him, because he couldn't say it. _Couldn't_. It was the most dangerous way of tempting fate. His life didn't have a happily-ever-after ending; somewhere in the future was another headstone and a memorial, and hopefully this time he'd be able to spill some more of the bad guys' blood when he went down. Until then, Jay just did the best he could, and maybe if he didn't draw attention to the best thing that had happened to him, his incredibly shitty Todd luck wouldn't come down on her.

He leaned in, resting his forehead on hers, their noses almost touching. Jay's eyes were fixed on Kala, paying only the merest ghost of attention to their surroundings.

She knew, though. She could always tell when he was lost in his own mind. "Stop it," Kala murmured, reaching to trace gentle fingers over his brow and across his cheek.

"I'm good," he told her softly.

That prompted a whisper of a laugh from her. "Then why are you frowning again, Jay?"

Jay sighed, and closed the door on the contemplation of bad endings. He had plenty to focus on, right now, and it was a damn sight better than _that_. "Lived with Bruce too long. Brooding's contagious. I'm back on, now." And just making a joke like that was enough to let him smile again.

X-ray vision or not, those eyes of hers were damn pretty. They seemed to change color with the lighting and her mood, looking more green or more amber and never quite the same twice. The soft smile that curved her mouth then just added to the appeal. "Brooding with _me_ here? Guess I was right that time I told you I was a _lousy_ dream-catcher," Kala said in a quiet murmur only he could hear. For a moment, her gaze swept what she could see of his face in that knowing way, before she moved to rest her forehead against his again. "Sorry I'm not a better distraction tonight. Don't know why you keep me around. Any way I can get your mind off it, Robin?"

"Oh, plenty of ways," Jay murmured, spinning her again. "I suppose you're looking for ways that leave that dress _on_, though, right? At least for now. Later … later on, we'll see."

He enjoyed her tender looks, but the heated ones were even more welcome. And the way her eyes darkened at that suggestion made every bit of teasing from Dick or doubt from Tim worthwhile. "Let's work with ways that won't get us jailed for public indecency," Kala murmured, her hand on his shoulder slipping down to catch his bicep the way she sometimes did in bed.

Something about Kala was even more beautiful, even more attractive, tonight. Jay didn't question the irresistible pull he felt toward her. He _always_ felt that magnetism, it was just particularly strong tonight. "Just keep dancing with me," he told her. "That's all I need, for now."

"Maybe I can do a little better than that." Kala smiled, and leaned up to kiss him again. The kind of kiss where time seemed to stop and his heart slowed and he sort of wished he could just live in a moment forever, because for once everything was going right. Jay let himself get lost in the kiss, the way he usually didn't when they had witnesses, sinking into the feel of her breath and the taste of her lips until his brain buzzed like he was drunk.

Jay had to break away first, needing air more than she did, and Kala's eyes had gone darkly lambent the way they only did when the two of them were alone. If there weren't a couple hundred witnesses around, he was sure she'd snatch him up and fly off to the apartment right now. The thought was enough to make him grin.

Something changed in her expression then, the way her expression and gaze suddenly went soft, something trapped there that was fraught and almost pleading. "Jay … Jay, I…"

He knew what was on her mind and in her heart and on the tip of her tongue. And he'd infected _her_ with his fear; Kala could say those words readily – but not to him. Because she knew how he felt about saying things like that. And she had no clue, even now, that she'd already told him.

The thing was, he didn't need to hear them to know they were true. "I know, K," he told her, and kissed her before she could speak. "I know. Me too."

That admission – the closest he _dared_ come to even thinking it – left her looking almost shattered in disbelief. Jay couldn't handle seeing that wide-eyed expression, the sudden wonder there; she deserved the words, and a whole lot more that he couldn't give her. But damn, she'd picked _him_ anyway, and before he could start scourging himself, Kala slowly broke into the warmest smile he'd ever seen. With a soft laugh, she leaned back into him willingly, content in his arms.

Jay kissed her forehead, and swayed with her, his heart pounding double-time.

…

The only two people _not_ masked in the entire room danced together, patiently but firmly ignoring anyone who tried to cut in. "This is nice," Selina murmured, smiling up at Bruce. It was, really – none of the sensors at the Manor had been tripped yet, so they could just enjoy the party for now.

He would've liked to maintain a stoic facade, but she more than anyone else in his life called up a smile from him. "It is," he told her. "You still have to put that necklace back."

Selina gave him a charming pout. "Aww, come on. Emeralds bring out my eyes and I lent Kala all of mine. Not to mention, she hasn't even noticed it's gone yet. That could be her fifth champagne talking, though."

"You've had three," Bruce pointed out.

"One more glass and I might take you home with me, handsome," Selina said, with a salacious waggle of her brows.

"Selina," Bruce scolded. She never could pass up an opportunity to flirt, even when she was already living with him at the moment.

And he could never resist her. Selina tipped her head back, laughing, and Bruce was peripherally aware of several men nearby darting envious looks at them. Beautiful, witty, charming, everything about Selina encouraged adoration.

She was fiercely independent, though, and had Bruce been the kind of man who felt threatened by others' interest in his date, he would've warned them that none of them could handle her. Hell, _he_ couldn't really handle her. Selina let herself be handled only as much as she pleased, and no power on earth could compel her beyond that.

"Brucie, darling," she murmured, too sweetly, calling his attention back from that contemplation. "The neckline of this dress is much too low for you to be brooding. What's on your mind?"

She leaned in close, pressing her cheek to his just like one of her cats, and Bruce let his breath ghost across her hair. "Sparing a moment of pity for all the jealous men who wish they were dancing with you."

"Mm, if they only knew," she chuckled, and kissed his jaw.

Another moment, another turn of the dance, and Bruce let himself relax as much as he could. Public events always required a certain amount of monitoring, but there was plenty of backup available. And then Selina murmured, "You're not thinking deep thoughts about us cohabiting, are you? Because you know, as much as I love the silk sheets and the mansion on the hill and the good silver and the fine china and _Alfred_ … it's not for me. I'm not staying, Bruce. As soon as Joker's locked up or put down, I'm in the wind."

And he _had_ known that. He just hadn't been letting himself _dwell_ on it, because having Selina there at breakfast every morning, having her curled up in his arms every night, was delightful. Bruce knew he could get very used to that.

She couldn't. It was nothing so trite as the fear of commitment everyone ascribed to him. Selina belonged to the night and the rooftops, and she cherished her freedom more than anything else. More than comfort, more than love, more than life, even. He could offer her the world on a silver platter, and she would only see a collar with a bell on it. Selina was not, and never could be, tame. Not and remain herself.

Strange how, of his two great loves, the one who'd been bred to rule and raised as an assassin was the only one fond of domesticity. But then, years ago Ra's al Ghul had warned him of trying to tame Talia – that like a hunting falcon, she might accept the jesses, and time on the glove might dull her talons, but she would never truly be happy with that future, either. Perhaps he was just doomed to love women whose very sense of self required them to stand apart from him, and the only difference was that one would willingly self-immolate if he allowed it, and the other refused.

The concept of his life, or just a relationship with him, as a funeral pyre also had a certain poetic gruesomeness to it.

Bruce wouldn't say any of that to Selina. She was anxious, living with him, precisely because she enjoyed it, too. Neither of them were willing to change who they were, not even for themselves, certainly not for love. The least he could do was not add any more pressure to Selina.

"I know," he murmured, and pulled her a little closer. "Just enjoying it while it lasts. And you _are_ giving back that necklace."

Teasing her about her thefts was a safer topic, but he heard a rueful note in her chuckle. "Oh, if you insist," Selina replied, and then he felt more than saw her glance upward. "Look, they left the Christmas decorations up."

Bruce knew exactly what it would be, drawing back from her to glance at the ceiling. Of course. They had a history with certain decorations, which was enough to make him think fondly of a parasitic herb. That affection was in his voice as he murmured, "Well, it _is _the Mistletoe Masquerade."

"A wise man once told me mistletoe can be deadly, if you eat it," Selina told him, arching her brow.

"A wiser woman told me a kiss can be even deadlier, if you mean it," Bruce replied, and kissed her anyway.

…

Kala had gone to the ladies' room to gather her composure, after almost blurting her guts out to Jay. And he'd _responded_ to it – though now she was wondering if he'd been agreeing with something else, if he'd misinterpreted the words she'd almost said. Part of her longed to just get it out there, to have the truth laid out raw and real between them. Most of her knew that Jay would go skittering off into the night if she tried _that_.

It would still feel good to just _say it_, for once. They'd danced around it so long. She shook her head, pushing the thoughts away as she re-entered the main room to look for Jay.

All of a sudden, the crowd moved differently, and she alerted to it. For some reason, she remembered one of the very early concert tours, when KLK had been just one of a long list of Goth bands playing. She'd been in the crowd when an amplifier blew up, and felt this same kind of sharp change. It made her think for a moment that she could understand flocks of birds or schools of fish, how they could all move together as if some kind of low-grade telepathy connected them.

The same thing was happening now, and Kala knew not to freeze in place. She moved with the crowd, a little slower than them, reaching out with super-senses to locate her team and the cause of this change in behavior.

Images of birds and fish came to mind again, because a space began to open up within the crowd, a space like the one surrounding a shark cruising through a school of tuna, or a hawk diving through a flock of starlings. Everyone was trying to avoid the dozen figures now fanning out through the crowd.

Men, armed with automatic rifles, and Kala's spine turned to ice as she saw that all of them wore clown masks.

All but one.

…

Dick enjoyed teasing Jay, and this was a perfect opportunity. The way he'd danced with Kala just begged for some brotherly ribbing; it looked so damn serious Dick was ready to name their kids. He didn't think Kala would object to naming a boy Richard, after all, since it was her stepfather's name too. The second she stepped away, Dick cruised in to give him grief, leaving Dinah to browse the hors d'ouvres. Except every remark about what a good dancer he was and how cute Jay and Kala looked together had only been met by a smug smile. Even now, Jay was sipping champagne and just grinning at Dick. "Didn't know you were this jealous," he finally said.

"Jealous?" Dick replied, eyebrows going up.

"Yeah. Look, Dick, it's not my fault you brought a totally platonic date. I can suffer through all the small talk and bullshit for two reasons: I get to dance with Kala in that dress, and _I get to take her home after_." He winked at that, looking absolutely devilish.

It startled a laugh from Dick, who clapped him on the shoulder. "At least there's no glitter this time."

They could've riffed on that for a while; Tim was _still_ finding glitter in the garage. But the atmosphere of the room changed abruptly, and they both turned to see what was happening.

"Aw, fuck," Jay growled as the crowd began to scatter. "Really? I was having a good time, too…"

He trailed off as they both saw the men stalking in with weapons raised. Clown masks – it was _Joker_, they hadn't outguessed him after all. His goons were here, and a second later, Dick saw that distinctive green hair. Joker himself was here, too.

His hand was still on Jay's shoulder, and he felt the muscle turn to stone. It turned Dick's stomach to see Joker running loose among civilians; he couldn't imagine the amount of adrenaline that must've been coursing through Jay's veins. This was the outcome no one had wanted … but they'd planned for it anyway. Because that was who they were.

"We've got to get out of here," Dick murmured, taking Jay's arm. He was probably armed, with a knife or two if not a well-concealed gun, and it would be difficult to keep Jay from simply pouncing on his nemesis in plainclothes. He had to get him moving.

"Where's K?" Jay asked, scanning the crowd even as they both started backing toward the nearest exit.

Dick felt his heart clench, trying to spot her. People were beginning to panic, and in seconds the crowd could turn ugly. "No time, Jay, she knows the plan. She'll be heading for the parking deck."

"Jesus fuck in a house fire," Jay said despairingly, still scanning the crowd even as he and Dick backed toward the doors.

He hesitated, and Dick grabbed Jay's arm even more tightly. "We have to _go_, we can outflank them, but we have to _go_, Jay. She's faster than us, she's probably already at the cars. Let's go, _now_!"

Joker lunged toward the partygoers, and a rattle of frightened cries went up from them. They leapt back, ramming into each other. Jay started to come along, reluctantly.

"Where's the commissioner?" Joker asked in that horribly jovial voice. "How about the mayor, is she here? C'mon, people, work with me." Always stalking, every move predatory, and no one would've guessed that he'd been in a coma last month. It was downright uncanny. "How about this – anybody missing a wallet? Or a diamond ring? Maybe there's a sticky-fingered cat in the crowd. Here, kitty kitty kitty…"

One of his men made another lunge, a woman screamed, and Joker laughed. Dick felt Jay tense up, his jaw clenched and teeth grinding, but they were almost to the door. Almost out, and once they were in uniform they could _do_ something about this.

Dick took a second to check on everyone else. Bruce and Selina were nearby, fading back toward the same door, and Dick saw her look up at Bruce and give a single quick shake of her head. Bravery and determination were all well and good, but Joker was calling her out by name, and Dick was glad to see her get out of it. Bruce covered Selina's exit. Better that she didn't get involved in this one.

Dinah was across the room, near some civilians, and she caught Dick's eye, giving him a nod. The group of people she was with included a frail older woman and a boy about Lian's age, both of whom needed help getting out. Dinah would make sure that happened, no matter what. Her civilian identity was long since revealed, even if the public seemed to have mostly forgotten it. Still, her priority was making sure the civvies were okay.

Tim was already at the door, slipping through. Dick figured the five of them would be enough. Joker and ten of his men versus four Bats and a Super, those were reasonable odds.

And then just as he and Jay ducked through the concealed door, Bruce closing it behind them, everything went to hell.

…

As soon as she saw Joker, Kala looked for the rest of the team. She caught a glimpse of the boys carefully moving to the exits, trying not to attract attention that would reveal their civilian identities. They didn't see her, but that was fine – they would expect her to meet them at the vehicles. It was going to be all right, they just needed a few minutes to change and come bursting back in. One of the possibilities they'd discussed was Joker trying to out them publicly; everyone seemed to think it was unlikely, but Joker was nothing if not chaotic. Maybe he _would_ try to expose them.

They had to go, but it left everyone in the room undefended for precious minutes. Kala scanned the crowd, looking for Dinah, and found her at another door, escorting the most at-risk civilians out first. That put her in danger as well. Kala had worked with Dinah often enough to trust her to handle herself in any situation, but she was busy protecting other people and no one was watching her back. Kala's heart raced, not wanting to leave even for the seconds it would take to get to Jay's car and grab her uniform, not wanting to risk Joker getting the upper hand.

Dinah handed a nearly-catatonic little boy to someone heading out the door, and that settled Kala's resolve. She'd stay here, play civilian, and be backup for Dinah. The chairwoman of the JLA was out, if Joker recognized her, he'd go for her and put the people around her right in the crosshairs. Which meant Kala was the only wild card they had. As long as she didn't dive for her uniform, she could blend in with the civilians, a super-powered ace in the hole until the boys got back.

So she stayed, even when one of the thugs fired a burst of rounds into the ceiling and people screamed. She stayed, moving with the crowd, keeping pace with Joker and his men as they stalked through the throng. She stayed, and when two of Joker's men lunged into the frightened partygoers, Kala was a little slower than the panicked flight of the rest, stumbling over each other to get away.

She saw what Joker was about to do a second before he moved. He had to know the Bats were coming, he was looking for the commissioner or the mayor or Selina, so he didn't have a specific target. He just needed a hostage. And if he got his hands on one of these frightened people, it would make the entire situation a hundred times worse. The Bats would have to negotiate with a madman while he held a knife to some innocent's throat.

The Empress had been hovering at the back of her mind since Joker's first cackling laugh, and now she spoke, low and thoughtful, deadly in her intent. _Better if he took a hostage he couldn't kill so easily._

The thought made Kala's heart stop, and then beat faster, drumming like thunder in her chest. Oh this was stupid, this was crazy, Jay was going to absolutely lose his fucking mind, but she had only seconds to decide and Joker was _right there_. Any second now he'd grab a hostage, she didn't have time to think it through other than not wanting to see someone get killed tonight.

_Jay warned me what happens to pretty young things in this town,_ Kala thought, resolute, and she broke the pattern of crowd movement. Just a little, just enough. _Time to prove him wrong._ Joker lunged forward, three long steps, the crowd stampeding away, and Kala just … didn't run fast enough.

It wasn't a confrontation, nothing so obvious as that, but when that bone-white hand struck out, she was the one who didn't _quite_ escape. The fish a little slower than the rest, the starling a little less steady, and Joker's hand closing on her wrist made her think of hawk's talons and shark's jaws. _You're in it now,_ she told herself, and felt the coldness in the back of her mind try to take over. It would be so easy to end him, one quick flash of heat vision, one sharp blow to shatter his skull, or one swift grab and twist to dislocate his spine.

Kala stamped down on that, even as Joker yanked her away from the panicky rush of the rest. She couldn't afford to turn the Empress loose in front of this many witnesses, but as he spun her into the open space the fearful partygoers left around him and his men, Kala managed to twist the fingers of her free hand into the Bats' silent signal for 'I'm okay, go on'. Because if Jay saw this, if any of them saw this and she _didn't_ signal, Jay would blow his cover and everyone else's to get to her.

"My, my, my, aren't you lovely," Joker crooned, his mad eyes fixed on hers. Behind the mask, Kala glared him down, holding on with every ounce of self-control she possessed. His grip on her wrist was certain, and he proved he knew his share of martial arts, applying pressure that forced her to take another step away from the safety of the crowd. If she planted her feet, he wouldn't be able to move her – but then he'd know he was dealing with a metahuman.

Too late, she remembered he'd carried kryptonite the last time she crossed his path. The Empress surged up, and only months of practice let Kala keep herself in check. If he didn't know, he wouldn't use it. She couldn't feel the radiation now, and she was too off-center to focus on using her x-ray vision to check for any lead containers on his person. Joker was already in her face, she'd already committed to this, and she had to see it through.

All that mattered was protecting the civilians. Keeping everyone else safe meant pretending to be the perfect hostage. Kala held that in the front of her mind, and it was a damn good thing she did, as Joker looked her up and down with avaricious eyes. "Love the mask," he told her. "Harlequin colors, how delightful. It's almost as if you _knew_ I'd be here."

Her stomach dropped at that. _Goddammit, you moron._ She'd picked red and black for her uniform and Jay's helmet, never thinking that those _were_ Harley's colors most of the time. At least she hadn't picked a diamond-patterned mask. Hell, she might not have needed to let herself get caught, once Joker saw her he would've zeroed in on her for that tiny hint of resemblance.

All Kala said out loud, though, was a low and angry retort of, "You might want to be careful. I heard the last time you crossed a harlequin, your ass landed in the hospital." Kala raised her chin, feeling like her mother's daughter, proud of how level her voice was, even as the crowd around them gasped in shock and dismay.

Joker backhanded her across the face, and she remembered at the last instant to turn with the blow, to pretend it hurt. Someone in the crowd yelled out angrily, and the goons fired a few rounds into the air to cow them. Just as quickly, Joker tugged her back to him, sharply enough that Kala had to put her free hand out to stop herself from crashing into him.

That left her in something close to waltz position, and her skin crawled as Joker put his other hand on her waist, _smiling_ at her. She drew in an offended breath, and she got a nose full of _him_. Joker smelled like cordite and candied apples, the latter scent nauseating in this context. She would've expected anything else but _that_. His voice was a rolling croon, low and persuasive and charming, and that smile … Kala understood why Jay hated his smile. "Well then, I've always heard it's rude to bring up _exes_ on a first date, but since you broached the topic – I _am_ looking for a rebound." Joker stepped into her space, and she stepped back, fighting down the urge to simply rip him limb from limb right here.

That would go over well with the press, she reminded herself. Kala could live with losing her secret identity, but not with exposing her father and brother. Or with letting the public find out there was a Kryptonian in the world who could and _would_ dismember a man in front of a crowd of witnesses. _That_ would ruin all of them. "Good luck. Pretty sure I'm not your type. And rumor has it, she's left town," Kala hissed back, pretending to struggle against his grip.

Joker grinned wider at her pretend distress, and one of his men laughed. "Hey boss, think I saw that one dancin' with one of the Wayne boys. That high-profile enough?"

"Oh yeah, that's perfect," Joker chortled, and spun her. Kala's stomach dropped to realize the sonofabitch was _waltzing_ with her. And now he knew she was connected to the Waynes.

_Fuck._ Now she _really_ couldn't cut loose, because it wasn't just her own family on the line. Her fear rose, and the Empress leapt alongside it, eager for a fight. Kala throttled that back, but she hoped like hell the boys were hurrying. She didn't know how much of this she could take.

"Boys, you hold down the fort here," Joker said expansively. "I need a moment to talk to the lady alone." And then he was dancing her toward the room off to the side where the caterers had set up, Kala holding back both her gorge and the killing fire of her eyes.

…

Jay wasn't thinking about anything further than getting back in there and kicking Joker's ass. He stripped down to underwear and threw on his uniform in one hell of a hurry. As he jammed his helmet on, the first thing he heard was Dinah whispering urgently, "You need to hurry, I think K's about to kill him."

"Dammit, she promised she'd leave him to me," Jay growled, grabbing his guns. And then the sentence really hit him. "Wait, why the fuck is she still up there?" He felt like an idiot a second later. He had the keys, even if Kala had sped down ahead of them, she couldn't grab it without him. But she _did_ havethe speed, she should've been the first one out, when he hadn't seen her as they left he'd assumed she was out ahead of him. All of a sudden he remembered something his own father had told him about the word 'assume', and his gut went cold.

To his intense surprise, Dinah whispered, "_Shit_," over the open comm line. She was normally much better about protocol than that. "Hood, you need to stand down from this one. Just … take it from me, we'll handle it without you."

"Fuck that, I'm on my way. What's K doing? What's that fucker doing that she's gonna kill him?" He ran for the edge of the building, too bad if Dick and Bruce and Tim didn't make it there in time, he wasn't waiting for them. They were parked elsewhere in the big garage beside the venue.

"K has the situation under control," Dinah said firmly. "J, _listen_, K has it under control. She set this in motion, she knows backup is coming, and she knows what she's doing."

"Canary, _report_," Bruce's voice came over the line, and Jay reached the low wall that enclosed this level of the parking deck.

A frustrated noise, and then, "Joker wanted a hostage. Kala made sure he took _her_ instead of a civilian."

Jay had been about to jump and fire his grapnel; good thing he hadn't, because those words almost tumbled him to the ground, hitting like a super-strength fist to the gut. _Joker had Kala_. The nightmare roared back to life in his brain, Jay seeing Kala's lifeless eyes staring at him accusingly.

He should never have left without making sure of where she was. That was teamwork 101, and he'd screwed it up. It'd be better to risk sacrificing his identity to take out the Clown, than leaving Kala up there in civilian clothes, having to pretend to be a helpless victim. The _best_ case scenario now was that she went full Empress and fried the fucker … right in front of hundreds of witnesses.

The worst was that Joker might be carrying kryptonite. He had been the last time Kala crossed paths with him. Jay's heart seized, and he stepped up to the parapet, firing his grapnel.

And in a night of terrors, somehow the most unnerving thing of all was hearing _Babs_ spit out a bitterly emphatic, "_Fuck_," over the comm.


	40. Where There Is No Such Thing as Time

Selina ran, and hated herself for running. She didn't run from _anyone_. Catwoman was no coward, she stood up to supervillains and metahumans and everything else. She'd gone toe to toe with the most terrifying people in Gotham … and she regularly slept with one of them, actually. Bedding Batman wasn't her claim to fame, though. Neither was facing down or working with Poison Ivy and all the rest.

What _everyone_ in this miserable town knew was that Catwoman didn't back down from anyone or anything. She'd even stood up to Joker … but not now. Not the way he was since Harley left him.

Joker had always been the most dangerous of them all, and since Harley fought him and _won_, damn near killing him, he'd been even more unhinged. And Selina _knew_ he would target her. That was the entire reason she and the whole clowder had holed up in Wayne Manor. They'd been betting on Joker going to the house tonight, and she'd moved all her cats so they could turn the mansion into a trap, but he was here instead and calling her out. Hell, Joker was _already_ gunning for her before that.

She'd paid a veterinarian for the necropsy on Joker's little message. It was something of a relief to know he'd found a roadkill stray, that the poor thing had died of vehicular impact two days before they found it. Not what Joker or his men had done. He'd made his point. It could've been any of Selina's cats, skinned and nailed to the front door, and she knew Joker. He wouldn't have killed them first.

It could've been her.

If he could get his hands on her, she might find herself running out of luck and lives all too quickly. And the thing about Joker was, even knowing the kind of retribution that would rain down on him, even knowing Bruce might finally snap and kill him for it, if he decided to flay her alive and nail her up to a wall, _he'd still do it_.

Nothing had stopped him from killing Jay, after all.

Nothing ever stopped him.

And she _had_ helped Harley. She might as well have painted a target on her own back. Selina wouldn't do anything differently, but she wasn't going to risk herself tonight. Not when every instinct she possessed was screaming at her to _run_. Every feline intuition she trusted told her to just get away, that standing up to him would be the end of her.

Part of her insisted that she could've stayed to fight. Practically the whole family was there, including Dinah and Kala, and a little metahuman help never hurt. But knowing that Kala would laser his arm off, or Dinah would scream him senseless, didn't seem comforting when Selina knew he wouldn't hesitate. If he got close enough to her, having the heroes around would just make him cut faster, deeper, knowing he didn't have time to do a thorough job. And she discovered that she had a horror of being disfigured.

No, there were plenty of people up there who _hadn't_ directly pissed Joker off recently. They could handle it. Selina liked her own skin right where it was, unmarked, unscarred.

Maybe it was selfish of her, but she'd done her share of heroics already, taking care of the Southards and helping the girls get out. Pam and Harley didn't _have_ anyone else. The heroes all had each other, and more backup beyond that.

She still felt like a scared little kitten running into the night, hearing diabolical laughter in her mind and feeling haunted breath on the back of her neck.

…

_Let him get you alone. Then you can break his neck._ The Empress was wide awake and humming in the back of Kala's mind, ready to take over.

She fought back on two fronts, trying to keep her shadow-self locked down, and trying to struggle only as much as was believable for an ordinary human while Joker dragged her away. _No, we're not doing this, wait for Jay. Keep your cover and theirs intact. We can always kill him later, if we have to._

_He hurt Jason Todd. Every moment he __**breathes **__h__urts Jason Todd. And if he sees this, he will blame himself for letting us fall into the madman's hands. But if we kill the Joker, the nightmares end. _

Joker booted the door open and swung her inside, letting go so that Kala flew across the small room and fetched up against the opposite wall. Two of his men had followed him, leaving the rest to handle the crowd, which meant she still had to deal with witnesses.

The Empress looked out of Kala's eyes at the three of them, and said, _Kill them all. _

Kala gritted her teeth against a growl, feeling her eyes sting. _No. Joker is one thing. Two random thugs? __**No.**__ I don't know anything about them, I can't make that call._ And never mind how this flashed back to Luthor and _his_ men, how his guards had watched her the way Joker's men were watching her now. Avid gazes agleam with menace, and they had _no_ idea just what kind of trouble they'd backed into a corner here.

Joker himself stepped closer, looking intently into her eyes. Unlike the domino she'd worn when they last met, the Venetian carnival mask offered little concealment. It hid her features, not her gaze.

He was close, too close, and the Empress growled, _Vermin_, in her mind. His mere existence offended her, and Kala was horrified to realize that her darkest self had become fiercely protective of everyone in her _real_ life, too. Her mind flashed on Babs' scars, on Jay's medical chart, on everything this psychotic bastard had done. _Stamp them out,_ the Empress murmured. _End it all. End the nightmares. Make sure he never harms another. Now, tonight, while he is in our grasp. Avenge Jason Todd, avenge Barbara Gordon. Kill his followers, too. Stamp them __**all**__ out._

_No,_ _not like this, dammit. Not when I promised Jay I wouldn't do it alone, _she thought, wrapping her will tight around that rage, and Joker suddenly darted in, peering closely at her. "What's that I see? Is it raw terror?" he asked, in curious tones, and then his eyes brightened with what looked terrifyingly like genuine glee. "Ohh, it's _not_. What a delightful surprise, you're not alone in there! Why don't you let it out, sweetheart, whatever piece of your mind this ugly ol' city fractured. Let it out, let me take a look, I won't make fun. I promise. It's so much _better_ when you let it loose." Joker's smile was even more ghoulish than before.

Her darker half leaped forward, bristling at his implication and hungry for a chance to prove herself. It was all she had to ground herself, feeling reality swim just slightly. Once more down the rabbit hole, the feeling of shapes and shadows in the darkness beyond. _And contrariwise, what it is, it wouldn't be. And what it wouldn't be, it would, you see? _ A shiver ran down her spine as that particular phrase came back to her. With a brisk shake of her head, she attempted to recapture her equilibrium and managed the slightest bit.

"You don't want that," Kala told him, her voice low, fraught with the strain of keeping the Empress on a taut leash. Even now, just a little of her heat vision and she could crisp him through the eyes, boil that psychotic brain right out of his skull.

His hands landed against the wall on either side of her head, trapping her in place – if such as she could ever be trapped by a mere human. Joker was almost nose to nose with her, she could feel his breath on her face, and his voice dropped to a confiding murmur. "Oh, I don't know about _that_. You'd be surprised, you really would."

"As would you," she replied, and heard her own choice of words. A chill skittered down her back, and the Empress was _right there_ with her, whispering softly, comfortingly, _Go to sleep, sweet one. Let me take care of this. You can sleep, and when you wake it will be over, the world will be a cleaner, brighter, __**better**__ place. I can do this for you. I can make it all stop. They cannot blame you, they will know it was I who acted. Simply go to sleep, child… _

_No_, _we cannot_, Kala told herself, and held on grimly. _She_ would know that she'd let it happen, she'd blame herself. What the others thought didn't matter. Her own integrity wouldn't let her fob off responsibility for this.

Joker was still looking at her with all the bright inquisitiveness of a vulture inspecting roadkill. "Oh, you could be a lot of fun," he murmured. "What's a girl like you doing running around with the stuffed-shirt Waynes, hmm? You're not living up to your potential. Let me tell you, doll, the last girl whose dark side I let out would never have amounted to anything without me. They don't get it, those Waynes. Trust-fund babies. Money and comfort dull the senses. Do they even know what you've got in there, hmm? It's a shame to let all that crazy go to waste."

"Harley would've been _fine_ without you. You're a disease. And I'm not letting you infect me," Kala growled, angry enough over the situation to tell the bald-faced truth without considering how he might react.

He laughed expansively. "Sweetheart, Gotham is the disease. Or more correctly, _humanity_ is. I'm just one of the symptoms. But I _do_ want to know if our favorite rich boys have any _clue_ what they're dancing with."

Kala bared her teeth, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of an answer, and shots rang out in the main ballroom. Joker turned his head toward them, and grinned. "Sounds like we've got _company_, boys!" he called out, then moved with eerie speed, grabbing Kala's arm and yanking her forward. Kala let him, still pretending to be human and helpless, but even she was unprepared for how swiftly he set his back against the wall and wrapped an arm around her neck.

She heard the snick of a switchblade, and it was too close to her jaw to see, but even though she _knew_ it couldn't cut her, the threat was enough to have the Empress seething with rage. _No you don't, he has no idea that knife's harmless, don't let him find out,_ she scolded her shadow-self.

With all of her powers, and with no kryptonite in play, Kala was as safe right now as she would've been at home. That had been the whole reason she'd let herself be taken hostage, instead of anyone else. She focused on her breathing, bracing one hand against Joker's arm, and stared at the door ready to give the 'I'm okay' signal as soon as one of the Bats broke in.

"Here, Batsy, Batsy, Batsy," Joker crooned, the switchblade tickling cold against Kala's neck. "Come on, little Batsy, Daddy wants to talk to you."

…

The frightened partygoers had been herded into the back of the room by Joker's thugs. The Bats came in through four different points of entry, Jay crashing through a plate glass window. People screamed, of course; the Bats might be the good guys, for a certain value of good, but their arrival still heralded violence.

Jay landed in the middle of the civilians, but he was up and running and firing stupid rubber bullets before Joker's men had a chance to turn his way. People scattered out of his path in a blind panic, much the same way they'd run from Joker. He was the Red Hood, after all, no one wanted to be in his way.

Dick and Tim were off to his left, Bruce was to his right, and they all converged on Joker's men. First priority was to get the guns out of play so no civilians could get shot, and Jay was _good_ at disarming multiple opponents. There'd been four months of training on that alone. He lunged and spun and hammered his way through the men, fast and unpredictable, but all of it was muscle memory and training and reflex. His conscious mind had one thought in it, like an alarm flashing repeatedly: _**KALA**_**.**

Joker had Kala, and there were no good outcomes. Flickers of his nightmare, memories of the last time they'd met, fears for how this could end tonight. Jay had to get to her, he had to figure out what Joker's play was and _stop_ it.

With the Bats fighting Joker's men, the partygoers were making a run for it. The exits were jammed up, and Jay was vaguely aware of Dinah trying to prevent a stampede, keeping order. Much to Jay's surprise, he found himself wishing that Donna hadn't already left Gotham. Another heavy-hitting meta would be nice, right about now.

One of the goons jumped onto his back, and Jay neatly spun the man off and to the ground, grabbing his wrist and separating his elbow as he did. Hell, who needed metahumans? All _he_ needed was anger.

And Jay had plenty of that, seasoned with his fear of all the ways this could go wrong. At the center of his soul, he was _angry_ more than anything else, furious with Joker for showing up to what should've been a nice relaxing night. They'd left a baited trap for the bastard, and by rights he should've gone to the Manor looking for Selina or her cats. Joker should've been knocked out waiting for them by now. Instead Jay had actually tried to _enjoy_ some downtime with Kala, and of course his personal fuckin' nightmare had to roll up and ruin it. Trust the Todd luck.

They went through Joker's men like they were made of paper, and Jay saw the last two guys pop out of a little room off to the side where the caterers had set up. That was where Joker had to be, and he zeroed in on the last two men. The four of them bunched up too, Dick and Tim dropping into tumbling rolls as the Joker's goons opened fire. Jay trusted to speed, bad aim, and body armor, but he went low nonetheless, knowing that automatics pulled upward as they shot, and untrained men had trouble holding the guns down. He dove, feet first like something out of baseball, and the guy he aimed for managed to dart aside … right into Tim's staff.

The same thing was happening the other way around, as the other guy dodged Dick's escrima sticks only to get his feet yanked out from under him by Bruce's sweep-kick. They were on the ground and trussed in seconds, Jay ignoring them and going for the door.

Bruce caught him, and Jay was so keyed up he actually landed a hit before he realized who had him in a joint lock. "That room has no exits," Bruce said, his voice gravelly from the digitizer built in to his cowl. "Joker must know that. Whatever he's planning, we can't barrel into it."

"_He has __**K**__,_" Jay snarled under his breath. "_Both_ abbreviations. I don't fucking _care_ what he wants."

"She put herself in his path. You have to trust her to know what she's doing." Bruce's eyes behind the lenses were clear and cold, stoic as ever. "We do this _together_, and we do it _carefully_. He doesn't get what he wants tonight."

Jay couldn't decide if that was consciously mirroring Joker's own words, when the two of them confronted each other in Crime Alley. He didn't really care, he could admire Bruce's manipulative skills later. "He doesn't get her, either," Jay growled.

"No, he doesn't," Dick said from beside him. "He expects us through the door. B, can we bring that wall down?"

"Load-bearing," Bruce said, as Tim joined them.

And then, from the closed door, they heard Joker's voice. "Oh Batsy, what's taking you so long? Come on in the kitchen, I've gotta nice little dish here, just for you."

Tim scowled. "At least she hasn't killed him yet."

And that little reminder – that Kala _could_ kill Joker, if she wanted, even with kryptonite on board she could laser his fucking head right off – steadied Jay just enough.

As if Tim's words had been prophetic, they all heard Joker yelp in pain, and any thought of _careful_ went right out of Jay's head again. He broke Bruce's grip and leaped for the door.

…

Joker snarled at his men, "Get out there!" and they _went_, leaving Kala alone with him. She wasn't afraid, not really, not of _him_. She was more afraid of the Empress circling in her mind, showing her flashes of Luthor's security guys, the one who tried to choke her out with a grip a lot like Joker's arm across her throat.

He wasn't strangling her, anyway, just holding her, and Kala was waiting for the perfect opportunity to twist away from his grip. She could pull his hand away just enough to escape the knife, and she'd been trained in a dozen ways to escape a choke-hold. There was nothing here to be afraid of … except losing control, and tearing this murdering bastard into pieces for everything he'd done and would do.

Yelps of pain and the thud of weapons meeting flesh came to her through the door, and Kala knew Jay was there for her. She grinned triumphantly; Jay would keep her steady, Jay would keep her from ceding control to her darkest self. Joker would go back to Arkham tonight, and no one could say that Jay was a mad-dog killer or she was a dangerous liability.

They didn't have to kill him tonight. Not in front of witnesses.

It went quiet outside, and Joker tightened his grip on her neck. Kala felt the cold knife-blade touch her jaw, and wrapped her fingers more securely around Joker's wrist. She was ready to pull him away just enough…

To her surprise, Joker's other hand came up, grabbing her mask. Kala tried to snatch it back, not wanting him to see her face un-obscured. It'd be bad if he recognized KLK, worse if he caught a hint of the Blur, and she heard his taunting voice call out to Batman even as they struggled over the mask. Kala stamped on his foot, making him yelp.

Pain didn't stop Joker. He managed to rip the mask away, panting in her ear, "I want 'em to see your eyes, pretty," and Jay burst through the door like retribution. Kala elbowed Joker hard, still trying to grab the mask with one hand; she took the other off Joker's wrist to make the _I'm-okay_ hand sign the Bats had taught her over the summer.

She _was_ okay, they could do this like hostage negotiation, whatever Joker wanted he wasn't going to get, but Bruce and his three boys were all in the room and everyone had tranq darts. It would only take a moment or two to provide an opening.

Kala didn't even realize she'd made one minor miscalculation that was about to become major.

…

Jay saw a scene from his nightmare, Joker with a knife to Kala's throat, and what if the sonofabitch had kryptonite? _What if?_ And yet she gave the okay sign, she didn't even look _scared_, and Jay wanted to yell at her not to be so fucking flippant. Joker was _never_ predictable, _never_ safe, he would've let her fight Ivy and Scarecrow and Mask while he just coached from the sidelines before he would've let her do _this_.

Joker snatched her mask off, and she elbowed him, grabbing at it, ignoring the knife. Jay started to raise his gun and saw a bullet-hole in her forehead, forgetting in the heat of the moment that he was only loaded with rubber bullets. The worst he could do, even with kryptonite in the mix, was bruise her. He had forgotten that as the nightmare seemed to take hold of reality, and lowered the gun, taking a long stride forward. No plan, no training, just let him get his hands on the murdering fuck to give Kala enough of an out to shake loose, and the primal part of his brain spoke up in blood-red and Lazarus-green, showing him a vision of himself and Kala each grabbing an arm and just ripping Joker in half like a fucking wishbone. With her powers and the adrenaline pulsing through him, it might just be doable.

He didn't get the chance.

They had all assumed – _Kala_ had assumed – that Joker wanted a hostage. For what, no one had yet figured out, but they'd had to negotiate with him before.

It turned out Joker hadn't wanted a hostage at all.

He looked straight at Bruce who was coming in behind Jay, smiled even as Kala got her hands on her mask again, and said, "Tell Harley this is for her."

Jay saw the knife dig into the corner of Kala's jaw, her eyes going wide with shock, and Joker raked it across her throat with a showman's flourish, shoving her away from him as he did. Jay had cut enough throats in his time to know that would've severed her carotid and jugular; he saw Joker's bicep bulge under the suit with the force necessary to saw through her trachea. Even the shove was familiar, the best way to keep fountaining blood from staining the attacker's clothes; a sliced carotid artery could jet six feet into the air.

Kala stumbled, off balance, dropping her mask as her hands flew to her throat, and the stunned look in her eyes was just the same as his nightmare.

Jay grabbed for her, his heart seizing, his brain vapor-locked, and he had _no idea_ what to do, how to fix it, he just yanked her close…

… "Jesus _fuck_," Kala said, her voice whispery with shock, and it was only then that he realized that her skin wasn't marred. Her throat wasn't cut. She wasn't bleeding at all.

No kryptonite, the knife couldn't touch her, and Jay wanted to kiss her for being alive and shake her for being so stupidly brave and hug her father for passing on that invulnerability all at the same time.

He settled for crushing her to his chest, even as Joker's breath whooshed out at the impact of Bruce and Dick both cannoning into him, smashing him against the wall. The knife went spinning somewhere, Jay heard a crackle as someone stepped on Kala's mask, and he looked up just in time to meet Joker's confused and newly-concussed gaze.

"Get her out of here!" Tim snapped, grabbing up Kala's mask and shoving it at them. He had cuffs out, as Bruce and Dick slammed Joker to the ground, yanking his arms behind his back.

Only then did it dawn on Jay how dangerous this was. Kala _should_ have been bleeding to death right now. If Joker saw her unharmed, he'd know not only that she wasn't a random hostage – she was a _metahuman_.

And he was seeing her face, too, a face that wouldn't be hard to find in other photos of Wayne events from the summer.

Kala snatched the mask from Tim and fitted it over her face, while Jay just picked her up and carried her out. Vengeance could wait, the most important thing was getting her away before cops and reporters showed up.

The few remaining partygoers outside left him a clear path to the nearest exit, and Jay _ran_ like he would if she was injured, clutching Kala close to his chest. The nightmare was still clawing at his mind, making him need to look at her, to make _sure_ she wasn't dying.

…

_Fuck fuck __**FUCK**__,_ was all Kala could think. Joker had just caught a glimpse of her face, and she hadn't been able to push the knife away in time. She'd _felt_ that, the narrow cold metal skimming right under her jaw, and part of her could hardly believe that she was uninjured.

If Joker saw that, he'd know he picked a meta for a hostage. At least the rumors around Gotham were that the new metahuman in town was an _Amazon_; God bless Selina for that. And there _were_ other metahumans in the world, some who didn't wear costumes. And for all the disbelieving wonder of it, the Empress had stood down when she told her to. And when it was least expected, something that actually frightened her in a way she was still stunned by.

She didn't get much chance to process, because Jay snatched her up bridal-style and ran out of the gala. Shocked as she was, Kala stayed curled into his arms, listening to his wild heartbeat until they were out of the venue before she shifted her grip. Her arms going around Jay's shoulders, with only a instant's warning, she flew them both to the parking deck. Jay didn't fight her, just going with it. They both needed a little space in which to think.

As soon as she set them down, though, Jay seized her shoulders, holding her away from him and looking at her frantically. "Red, _Red_, it's okay, it's _okay_. I'm _fine_," Kala said, trying to reassure him as well as herself, her hands rising to his arms.

To her immense surprise, Jay _shook_ her. Kala gasped, letting herself flop back and forth for a second, until Jay yanked her close again and shouted, "How can you be so fuckin' brave and so fuckin' _stupid_!"

The regret stung her immediately then; from the moment she had walked into that room without him, Kala had known this was coming. And he had every right to be upset, she knew that, but she had to make him understand. Steadying herself, Kala resisted the next shake. "Jay, stop! There was no other choice. Someone had to distract him. It had to be me, I couldn't let him take someone else."

Even with his helmet on, Kala knew the look on his face and it hurt. That she was the author of that pain made it worse. "It didn't _have_ to anything, you don't serve yourself up on a goddamn platter," he bellowed.

"Jay, there were _children_ there," she protested.

"So fucking what, Dinah was lookin' out for them," Jay spat.

As much as she felt for him, that tore it. He was upset and angry, but he didn't mean that and she knew it. Kala's temper flared at that disregard. "And if _Dinah_ had done what I did, she'd be _dead_ now. I was the only one who _could_, Jay!"

Jay shuddered, and pulled her into his arms, hugging her tight. Kala wrapped hers around him; despite the yelling and the shaking, she was far more freaked out by Joker, and Jay was her security. "Thought I fuckin' lost you," he mumbled against her hair, trembling.

Just hearing that note in his voice made her want to yank the damn helmet off and make him forget all about the last half-hour, find some way to make it up to him right now. As it was, she had to settle for leaning into his shoulder. "I know, I know, I'm sorry, Jay, I'm sorry," she murmured back, squeezing him tight. "I only had a second to decide, it was the only thing I could think of."

"Fuckin' think _better_, Jesus fucking Christ," Jay grumbled.

"I'm okay," she told him. "I'm okay, and if it had been anyone else, they'd be dead."

"_She'd_ be dead," Jay corrected, shuddering. "This was never about a hostage. We thought Joker would stay away because something this public would bring us – the fucker was _counting_ on it. You heard what he said to Bruce?"

Kala shivered. _Tell Harley this is for her._ And then the knife, cold pressure against her neck slicing right across, if it had been anyone else tonight they would've died.

Jay growled. "He thinks we might know where Harley is. Hell, he _knows_ Selina helped them. He wanted to send a message to Harley, paint us all in some random woman's blood. Fucking hell, he might even _want_ to go back to Arkham. It'd be an invitation to Harley to meet up and end this before anyone else dies for her mistake."

"Well he's _fucked_ on that account," Kala snarled. "She's long gone, and he can stay in Arkham 'til he fucking _rots_."

"Hell yeah," Jay said, rubbing her shoulders. "Although who knows, maybe some night I'll work out a way to pay a visit. This has to stop."

"I'm going with you," Kala said firmly.

And then, before Jay could agree or protest, something else he'd said caught her attention. Joker knew Selina had helped Harley… "Where's Selina? Joker was trying to call her out," she asked, listening for the thief's voice.

"She bolted. There was no way for him to know for certain she would be there, she wasn't on the guest list, and you never know who Bruce Wayne will bring to a party," Jay said. "I don't think he ever actually saw her, but she got away anyway. Can't blame her, I wouldn't stick around."

"Oh, thank God," Kala sighed. "I didn't see her once it started."

There was a pause, and Jay's frown deepened. "Although … _shit_. Joker knows she's not at home. And he knows about Selina Kyle and Bruce Wayne. He called her, out, so he know she _could_ be here. That's worth leaving a couple guys by the back door, right?"

Kala closed her eyes, focusing her hearing as hard as she could. That slight, sardonic drawl, the playful lilt … no, she didn't hear Selina anywhere. "I don't hear her. Fuck, Jay, we better check."

He hit his comm. "Oracle, Blur and I are good. Where's Catwoman?"

The reply took a second to come back. "She doesn't carry a comm. And – her phone's offline."

Kala and Jay both muttered curses at that. "I'll go…" she began, turning to leap into flight.

Jay yanked her down. "The fuck you will," he cut her off.

She only looked at him; she was the most mobile, she could cover more ground than anyone else, and even though she'd just scared the hell out of him and herself, she wasn't hurt. There was no reason for her _not_ to search.

And he knew it. Growling his frustration, Jay let her go. "Get your fucking uniform first, anyway," he said. "I want you on the comm if anything does happen."

Kala nodded, and pulled him to her, resting her forehead against the helmet. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, Jay, I'm _sorry_."

"Yeah, don't be sorry, just stay the fuck alive," he grumbled. "Who the hell's gonna buy my groceries if you get killed, huh?"

She gave him the same impossible smile – the same _loving_ smile – he'd seen earlier, and then flew them both to his car.

…

Batman got the situation under control and regrouped on the roof. Minus Hood and Blur, of course, but they were likely having a moment of panic and unexpected relief.

He'd had his own moment, watching that knife glide across her throat. Even if he hadn't known Kala and liked her on her own merits, watching his friend's daughter be murdered in front of his eyes was sure to waken his worst nightmares. Bruce knew he'd be seeing his parents' shades in his dreams tonight, when he finally let himself sleep. In waking life, he had to check old photos to remember the colors of their eyes; in nightmares he remembered the exact shade of lipstick his mother had worn to the theater.

And it would be worse for Jay, who'd seen his own mother die … but not by violence. Watching cancer steal a life was different than seeing someone he loved be murdered only inches from his helpless hands. Bruce didn't need to see under that helmet to know how stricken Jay had been, when Joker raked that knife across Kala's throat.

It couldn't be easy for Kala, either. She'd expected to play hostage, and hopefully learned the one lesson everyone eventually did, if they survived encounters with Joker. He _could not_ be predicted. They had all thought he would stay away from a high-profile event, and when he did show, they'd all made the same mistake of thinking he wanted a hostage.

No. Joker only wanted to send a message to Harley: not even the Bats could protect her. Bruce could've fired two Batarangs into his shoulders, Jay could've shot him in the face, but with the knife already pressed beneath the shelf of her jaw? There was no way to stop him from killing his victim.

Except that the victim wasn't what he thought, and now Joker had that knowledge. He wouldn't have missed the lack of arterial spray. The boys had gotten Kala away, hopefully before Joker got a good look at her face, but he would've noticed the absence of blood on the ceiling and their uniforms. The best Bruce could hope for was that the head trauma of him and Dick smashing him into the wall would result in some short-term memory loss.

No use in hoping. Better to plan for Joker knowing there was a metahuman in the mix. He'd have to sort through the possibilities and see how much Joker could possibly learn.

His comm sparked up then, cutting off his train of thought. "Have any of you heard from Catwoman?" Oracle asked.

"Negative," Batman replied. She'd looked at him when Joker started calling 'Here kitty', and shaken her head. Bruce trusted her instincts, if Selina believed it was too dangerous, he would never have asked her to stay and risk herself. He hadn't wanted her in Joker's sights to begin with, but she'd placed herself there, and now all he could do was try to protect her.

"Her phone is off," Oracle said. "And she hasn't reached the Roost, Hood's bunker, or her own apartment yet. I'll be a lot happier when we know where she is."

She wouldn't say what they were all thinking. Joker had plenty of men left to him. If he hadn't brought all of them inside, if he'd left a couple on watch and they caught Selina when she was out of uniform and looking over her shoulder instead of in front of her…

Bruce hadn't let her see what was left on her building's front door. She'd found out later, of course, but he didn't want that image in her mind. One of the odd quirks about Gotham's criminals was that most of them _did_ have a definite line they wouldn't cross. Harley and Ivy would steal and kill, but they'd actually _rescued_ a few women in peril. Very few of the rogues would harm a true innocent; the mob was worse for that than the masks. They didn't tend to hurt children or animals.

Except Joker. He had no rules. Only Joker would nail a dead cat to Selina's door. All the chaos her cats had caused in Wayne Manor had become more poignant, once Bruce saw that pitiful little body with its paws outstretched in ghastly parody of crucifixion. If Joker had done that to one of hers, to the silly creature crying for a taste of cheese or the fluffy one who liked to sleep in Jay's room or the tabby who played with Dick's shoelaces…

Selina would've stopped at nothing, even risked her own life, to kill Joker. She might be afraid of him – little though she'd admit it – but she'd have vengeance for that at any price.

And now, if Joker had played long odds, if he'd been very lucky, if Selina had been a little careless … his men might have Selina herself. They were not quite as dangerous as Joker, he would normally trust her to handle herself against Joker's goons, but with Selina out of contact, the possibilities were dark.

"Catwoman's always careful," Dick said aloud.

"Let's find her," Tim replied.

"I've got Blur and Hood already covering a search pattern," Babs told them, and fed them the same coordinates.

…

Babs scanned all the cameras in the vicinity. She finally saw Selina, not on the street-level doors. She'd gone out the rooftop, wearing an evening gown, ditching her heels and running barefoot. Babs tracked her to the parapet, where she'd jumped a ten-foot gap, and then to the next building. That one abutted the first, but was a story shorter. Selina landed rolling, wrecking the gown, but she was running hard enough that it was plain to Babs she didn't care about anything except distance.

Except … wait, she went over the edge and disappeared. Babs saw a likely window, and gave those coordinates to the team. Kala would be the first on the scene, as always, and she waited for a response, trying not to hold her breath.

"No heartbeat on that floor," Kala reported. "It's an office building, I'm not hearing anything inside."

"Look for any disturbance, tracks, any sign of passage," Babs told her.

"The floors are carpeted. I'm looking," Kala replied.

While she searched, Babs scanned the other cameras around the building. She didn't see Selina at the ground floor, or up on the roof again, or on the front of the building anywhere. It adjoined two others, and she looked at both of them.

"Anything?" Jay asked, his voice harsh with worry. Bruce was silent; if he had nothing useful to add, he wouldn't speak, just stew in his worry.

Babs read them all the coordinates of the building. "I have no sign of her coming out, but she could be in either of the adjacent offices. And there's an alley behind it. No cameras there." She started searching for wireless doorbell cameras in that area. Some savvy Gothamites put them up on their windows to watch the alleyways; Selina wasn't the only thief in town, just the best.

"There's a piece of fabric from her dress caught in the stairwell door," Kala reported. "No tracks in the stairwell, but I've got a whiff of her perfume going down."

"Damn, we've got a bloodhound on the team," Dick said, impressed. Babs had them all on the same circuit.

"I wish. I can't tell where she left the stairwell without a visual cue. My nose isn't _that_ precise." Kala sounded rueful, but Babs knew she was searching.

"She'll have wanted to avoid all surveillance," Bruce finally said. "Force of habit, and first principles. If she isn't already on her way to a secure location, she'll be hidden somewhere nearly inaccessible and almost impossible to locate."

"I live for the 'almost', Batman," Babs told him dryly. And grinned fiercely; she'd found a wireless camera in a window of the residential building across the alley. It didn't have the greatest view, but she could see at least one possible egress route. "Blur, go to the alley. I see some power lines crossing between buildings."

Only someone with Selina's daring would try using a _live power line_ to slide from one building to the next. But she knew that the charge was only lethal if it could run _through_ her body. A non-conducting material – like her purse strap, perhaps – would isolate her hands from the line. And the alley was narrow, it wouldn't take her long to slide across.

"Even better, I've got a clothesline," Kala reported. "And a partial handprint on the window it leads to. Recent, still warm in infrared, so it's probably hers."

Babs switched to the front of _that_ building, checking all the cameras she could find. Meanwhile, Bruce was telling Kala, "Follow _carefully_. That building is occupied."

"I know. Too many heartbeats nearby," Kala said regretfully. "Going quiet."

At least Selina appeared to have evaded anyone set to capture her. Babs could relax, a little … but if _she_ had been laying a trap for Catwoman, she would've placed watchers along the route back to the Manor. Would Joker take that long of a shot? Did he have the manpower to do it? Would his employees stay on the job once they heard he'd been taken into custody? The police scanners were alive with the news, and despite using codes, the sheer volume of chatter and the tone of the officers' voices were enough to clue in anyone listening.

Babs had scanned through several cameras, seeing nothing of interest, when she heard Kala hiss, "Ow, _goddammit!_"

…

Kala was acutely aware that, one, she was technically breaking into someone's apartment. And two, she was _not_ trained for this at all. With her hearing cranked up, every little sound startled her. She'd come in via the kitchen window, and the rattle of the ice-maker had damn near scared her into a heart attack. She floated, not wanting to risk even tip-toeing, through the silent kitchen and into the hallway beyond.

There were five heartbeats in this small apartment, all of them steady. Kala looked around; the rooms behind her were probably bedrooms, and four of the heartbeats were there. Three bedrooms, maybe a couple and two single people – she didn't see any sign of children, no art on the fridge, so it was probably a roommates situation.

The sixth heartbeat was in the front of the house. It might be a situation like her own, where the intended living room had been turned into an extra bedroom. Rents on the good side of Gotham could be ruinous. Or it could be Selina, hiding. Or it could still be a bedroom and Selina might've slipped out the front door, leaving some trace that would point out her next move. Kala went that way, listening, cringing a little as she passed the hallway nightlight. Everyone seemed asleep, no one would expect a random Kryptonian drifting up their halls like a ghost, but it made her feel _far_ too visible.

It also cast her shadow on the wall ahead of her. She paused just before reaching the opening into the living room, hearing the lone heartbeat speed up, and that pause saved her some trouble.

Selina came around the corner, a golf club in her hands, swinging with full power and deadly intent at head height.

Kala hadn't expected _that_, and caught it across her chin. Hovering, it knocked her back against the wall, and the lash of pain and surprise from the impact made her curse. "Ow, _goddammit__!_"

"Ah _shit_, sorry," Selina whispered, dropping the golf club. "I didn't expect…"

The next thing Kala heard was a rash of startled voices on the comm … and a door behind her banging open. "Who the _fuck_ is in my house at eleven at night?" a very angry female voice bellowed.

Kala cringed, so did Selina, and then they both heard the other doors opening, sleepy voices rapidly being raised. What decided Kala, however, was the distinctive sound of a pump-action shotgun being racked.

She would've expected that over in the Bowery, not here, but apparently some folks in Gotham preferred to be prepared no matter how good the neighborhood was. Kala didn't have much choice. She grabbed Selina in the grateful hug she'd _meant_ to give her the second she realized the thief was okay, and bolted for the sky.

At least the window was still open. Having to break the glass with her head wasn't on Kala's to-do list tonight, but then, neither had having her throat knifed or being bashed in the face with a nine iron.

…

Babs cut all the chatter off Kala's comm, leaving the rest to listen to her line but muting them from it. "Blur, _report!_" she demanded.

"Ow," Kala complained. "I've got her, we're fine, we're over the building."

"I am _not_ fine," Selina said sharply, close enough that Kala's mic picked her up. Evidently she could hear them through Kala's comm. "I like my flying first class, thank you very much, set us down on the roof _right now_."

"Thank fucking God," Jay said over the other comms.

"Hello? Solid ground, immediately," Selina said, sounding waspish.

"Catwoman, if you'd get your diamond claws out of my neck, I could concentrate better," Kala shot back, and Babs managed not to laugh. Somehow Selina sounded like a recently-bathed cat clinging to the curtains in hysteria.

Selina gave a shaky laugh. "Heights. Who ever thought I'd have a problem with heights? I _like_ heights, I've scaled every building in town and jumped off a few of them but this is _not good_, I shouldn't be able to see the freakin' _bay_ from here, how high up _are_ we anyway?"

"Relax, Catwoman," Kala said patiently. "I'm going to head back to the Roost, it's safest."

"No _thank_ you, just land me somewhere and let Batman drive me, did you miss the part where I'm _not okay_ with this?" Selina growled, and Babs tried not to laugh. It didn't help that the tracking Kala's comm told her the Super had gone up about a mile above ground when she left the apartment building. As Babs herself knew from her Batgirl days, there were heights … and _heights_. So far the only person she knew with no fear of any of them was Dick.

Who spoke into the comm then. "That reminds me, you still owe me a flight, Blur."

Babs did chuckle then. "They can't hear you, Wing. Blur, Wing says you can take him instead."

"All right, all right, I'm landing on the parking deck where our vehicles are located. Just breathe, Catwoman, you're perfectly safe," Kala said soothingly.

"Nope, I don't have a parachute, if something happens to you I'm road pizza," Selina groused. "Just get me down … _oh God that's faster than I thought!_"

"You sounded like you were in a hurry," Kala said, and Babs knew they were about to touch down.

…

Selina bailed as soon as she saw the parking deck in range, and Kala let her go, landing a moment later. "See, you're fine," she said, still amazed that _Selina_ of all people would freak out.

"No, I'm not, I'm gonna need therapy for this, and I'm gonna send you the bill," Selina told her, almost managing to conceal the quaver in her voice. "You don't understand, Blur, I _love_ doing crazy shit … when it's _my idea_. When I don't even get to finish apologizing for bashing you in the face with a golf club and the next thing I know we're standing on air God only knows how high up without even a _warning_ and the only thing between me and becoming a very flat cat is someone I just gave a head injury to, I am _not at all_ okay with it. _Any_ of it. Holy Mary Mother of God do _not_ do that again, please!"

Kala caught her shoulders, looking into her eyes, and said, "You _scared_ all of us. I couldn't hear you anywhere, your phone was off, we thought Joker might have planned to catch you leaving the gala, and he was trying to send a message tonight. Catching you would've been even better than cutting my throat in front of Batman. I had to make sure you were safe. And I'm sorry I scared you, but it takes more than a nine-iron to actually _injure_ me." With that, she hugged Selina, overwhelmed by relief.

Selina stiffened a little, but when they stayed on the ground, she relaxed and hugged Kala back. "It's all right. I just … I wasn't going to hang around anywhere near where he was. I figured you would all know I'd hide. And I pulled the sim card out of my phone – I know perfectly well it can be tracked."

"Thanks for scaring the shit outta everybody," Jay said as he and the rest jogged up.

Selina gave him the finger … and then paused, stepping back from Kala with a worried expression. "Wait, you said he cut your throat?"

Kala couldn't help it, she shuddered. "Yeah. Lucky for me, he didn't have kryptonite. Still not something I want to do again anytime soon."

"Now Joker knows there's a meta in Gotham," Bruce said. "He wanted a hostage, Blur decided she could risk that more safely than anyone else, and as it happens she was right. But Joker surely noticed she wasn't hurt. Are _you_ all right, Catwoman?"

"Take me home and feed me caviar, I'm traumatized," she replied with a shiver. "Well fuck. What does this mean going forward? Jokes already knows all of us, but what can figure out about Kala?"

"I need to run the probabilities. Nothing good, I'm sure," Bruce replied.

"At least if he asks around, you put the word out that Blur is an Amazon," Kala said.

"Yeah, well, I had to pick something that doesn't have many vulnerabilities," Selina said.

"We're all okay, there were no casualties, the civilians are safe, no one's identity got revealed," Dick said, his voice soothing. "By anyone's standards, that's a good night. Worrying about one of our own for a few minutes is a small price to pay."

No one could argue that, but Kala shivered, remembering the knife against her throat.

Selina shuddered, too, thinking about what might have been. "Yeah, I'm sorry I spooked you enough that you sicced the Super on me," she said, trying to sound flippant and failing. She turned her gaze to Bruce then, and added, "Also, for the record: I know perfectly well that Talia al Ghul wouldn't have run tonight. But discretion is the better part of valor, and my feline intuition said get the hell out of there."

Jay scoffed at that. "You're also not packing a sword or two guns in that dress, so it's not worth comparing. It's cool, Selina, no one's gonna give you grief."

Dinah added soberly, "Sometimes getting out is the safest bet. He was calling for _you_ – better that he didn't find you. Especially with how it all ended."

Selina accepted that, and shivered. "Anyway, I'm the only one still wearing party clothes, and it's December in Gotham, so let's get in the car and head home before I freeze to death, all right? No one died tonight, it's a win no matter what Joker does next."

"We still have to disarm every trap we set in the Manor before we can relax," Dick said, and Tim groaned.

Bruce just nodded to Selina, and reached for her hand, but Kala couldn't help noticing Jay's worried expression beneath the helmet.

…

Jay managed to get himself and Kala out of trap-disarming duty, and they drove back to the apartment at a reasonable pace. Without the rest of the family around to distract him, and with Kala having changed back into the dress to be less conspicuous if they were stopped on the way, he found himself replaying that moment over and over again. Joker's sick leering grin, the knife dragging across Kala's throat, her horrified face. If he'd had kryptonite, if that had been a Lazarus blade, if she'd been low on sunlight…

Kala put her hand over his on the gear shift. "Hey. You all right?"

"No, I watched the guy who killed me try to kill you," Jay said, but that was unnecessarily harsh, and he took a deep breath. "Sorry, K. I'm … a little shook up."

"And the adrenaline is dropping off now, so you're feeling it," she said. "Do you want me to drive the rest of the way?"

"I'm good. Gives me something to focus on," he said, and wondered how he'd gotten to the point where K could offer something like that and _not_ make him defensive, even in his present mood. If Donna had ever asked to drive, he'd take it as her thinking he was too fucked up to handle it. From K, it was an honest question, nothing more, no implications. He trusted her not to be throwing any shade.

She nodded. "I'm kinda shook up, too. This wasn't how I planned for this night to go. At all."

"That's what Joker does. Comes along and fucks up all your plans." At least while they were talking, Jay could stop the instant replay in his mind's eye. "I was looking forward to seeing whatever cute underwear you brought, too."

"Oh, well in that case…" He heard a rustling of fabric, and glanced over at Kala. She smirked at him, and she'd hiked the skirt high enough to show off a very fancy pair of black lace panties.

Somehow that sight _did_ make the whole night a little better. The lights stayed red, so Jay took his hand off the shifter and placed it lightly on Kala's thigh. Her skin was silky-soft and warm despite the weather, and all of a sudden the replay in his mind skipped back to the cabin. "You're a damn good distraction," he said, his voice husky.

"I try," she told him, her hand covering his as she leaned her head against his shoulder. Saying, without words, that she was here for him. Always.

They weren't getting up to any real trouble in the car, and maybe not even when they got home, but it was nice to think about. Much nicer than anything else his paranoid mind could conjure up. Jay held onto that until they got home.

And then, as soon as they got onto the elevator, Kala stepped into his arms and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Hey, Red?"

He hugged her close, breathing in the scent of her perfume. _Not_ blood. Candied fucking violets. "Yeah, K?"

"Y'know what Selina said to Bruce? About taking care of her 'cause she was traumatized?"

Immediately, he started to feel guilty. And a little stupid. He was replaying that moment like it was so horrible for him, when all he'd done was watch it happen. Kala had _felt that_, for the first time in her life felt a knife skim across her throat, and not that long ago she'd damn near come unglued at the realization that some knives could actually hurt her. He was being a selfish twit. "Shit, I'm sorry, K. I don't have any caviar, but…"

"Hush," she said firmly, and kissed his jaw. "You're fine, Jaybird. I was just thinking, since we're _both_ traumatized here, maybe we need something a little more serious than caviar. More relaxing, too."

He sighed; she was too damn good for him. "Sounds like a plan to me. I know I'd rather be distracting you than obsessing over what almost happened."

"And _I'd_ rather be distracting _you_ than thinking about what almost happened," Kala said. "We're safe, Selina's safe, the civilians are safe, Joker's in Arkham. I think we're owed a little distraction."

The past few days had taught Jay a lot about how quickly he could shift gears, where Kala was involved. She was a balm for everything broken inside him – and the wonder of it was, he could be the same for her.

So when the elevator dinged on his floor, Jay swept everything else aside and locked it away to pick Kala up and carry her into his apartment. "I think I can manage that, K. But one thing you gotta remember."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and looked up at him with bright eyes. "What's that, Jay?"

He beamed at her, already knowing how she'd throw her head back and laugh. "My distraction isn't gonna be _little_."

"_Jay!_" Right on cue, Kala laughed, and he opened the door of his apartment planning to get rid of all their troubles the best way he knew how.


	41. Too Far to Slip Away

**Authors' Note:** We are not making a statement for or against the legalization of recreational marijuana in this chapter. Nor do either of us personally smoke. It's just a plot point. (Coauthor Anissa is still snorfling over 'hipster ganja' though.)

Also, there's some disturbing imagery in here with Jay's nightmares.

Also-also, we will not be posting a chapter this Sunday, July 12th. Saturday is coauthor Anissa's birthday, and we're taking the weekend to celebrate. See you the 19th!

* * *

Hours later, Jay sat up in bed, gasping, his heart pounding. For a moment the quiet bedroom seemed full of light and noise and horror, and he couldn't quite reconcile where he was or what had just happened. He grabbed at his face reflexively, expecting it to be covered in blood. Kala's blood.

As soon as he thought of her, he felt warm hands on his cheeks, worried hazel eyes on his own in the dim light of the room. Kala was right beside him, whole and healthy, her touch moving then, curling her fingers around his. "What is it? What's wrong, Jay, talk to me."

He drew in a deep, shaking breath, and let it out explosively. She was alive. Kala was _here_, she was _alive_, it hadn't actually happened. "Nightmare," he croaked out.

"Another one?" Kala asked, her voice gentle.

He'd never told her what the last one was about, and wouldn't. Jay trusted Kala with all of his secrets, but somehow telling her he'd dreamed about shooting her in the face? About actually killing her? He just couldn't bring himself to do that. "Different nightmare. About last night. In the dream … Joker had kryptonite." Jay shuddered again, touching her neck, her throat, miraculously unharmed. That was one similarity between the two dreams, he'd seen her eyes glaze over in them both.

It wasn't real. Even in the half-light, he could see the pain for him in her gaze, Kala leaning in to press her lips against his forehead. "He didn't. I'm okay, Jay. I'm right here, he didn't hurt me."

Without a word, he pulled her into his lap, burying his nose in her neck. For a moment, Kala just sat there and let him hold her, gently running her fingers through his hair, lips against his temple this time. Jay felt her lean away slightly after a while before feeling soft warmth surround him; she had wrapped the burgundy plush throw she'd brought around them both, settling back in with her cheek against his hair.

The smell of her perfume lingered, that sweet candied-violet scent that soothed his soul like nothing else. So much of Jay's life was harsh smells: gun oil, cordite, smoke, sweat, the garbage-y reek of filthy back alleys, the iron tang of blood. To have something delicate and sweet like this was an antidote to all the rest. It was very much a Kala scent, seemingly light and soft, but it had a way of persisting so he caught whiffs of it on his clothes days later. Stronger than it seemed, more complicated than the sweet floral it appeared to be. And who else in his life was whimsical enough to wear _candied violets_, of all things?

No one. Just Kala.

"You can't let him hurt you," Jay whispered, his eyes burning. "I don't care what else happens. Don't let Joker get his hands on you again. He can kill some civilian, he's killed hundreds before, and I'll put him down someday for all of them. But he can't touch you. He can't… I can't handle that."

"Jay," Kala whispered back, her tone heartbroken as she closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his. "Don't say that. I won't let him hurt me, Jay, but I can't let him kill someone. I'll stop him, if I have to. I won't let him get that close to me again. He can't have you, either. Don't let him win, Jay. He can't make you let him kill an innocent. We'll stop him together."

There was something stark and final underneath her worry, and he knew it. He'd known it since they first faced the Clown. His girl pulled back, catching his chin, and told him seriously, "If there weren't so many people there, I would've killed him tonight. And it was a struggle not to. The Empress wants him _gone, _full-stop. I want him gone, too, you have no idea how much. If I didn't know how dangerous it would be for all of us, if I didn't know it'd out my whole family and yours too … and if I hadn't _promised_ you I'd let you have him…"

Jay heaved a sigh, touching her cheek. He wanted to scold her, but couldn't. She knew the dangers as well as he did. "About the only thing that held me back from charging in like a bull was knowing you could just crack the fucker like a glowstick if you had to."

That image broke her serious mien, startling her wide-eyed, only to make her throw her head back in that wonderful laugh. As he knew it would, and Jay laughed too, trying to hide his haunted tone. Her eyes danced then, chasing away the darkness in a way only she could. "Like a _glowstick_?! Of all the things you could equate him to. Jesus Christ, Jay!"

"Who knows, the bastard might actually glow," Jay chuckled. "The acid turned his skin white and his hair green, maybe it could do that too."

She looked at him, and something in his eyes made her grow solemn again. "We joke, but I mean it, Jay. You don't understand … you know how I feel about him, but she _really_ hates him just as much as I do. She's come to understand what he's done to you now, I think. At least most of it. It was everything I had to hold her back. If he actually _had_ hurt me, on top of that, she would've taken him out no matter what. And I knew exactly how she felt. I wanted to, also, so bad. But I promised _you_."

Jay scowled. "If he'd had kryptonite, the knife would've cut. You wouldn't have more than a minute. I've seen a severed carotid bleed out before, K. It's _fast_."

At that, Kala tilted her chin up a little stubbornly, as she always did when he doubted her. "Yes, but I'm faster. Faster than the Joker could ever dream," she said, and something changed. There was a sudden accent on those words. That hazel gaze was still just as steady, but it wasn't only Kala behind her eyes. "We promised we would leave the vermin's death to you, Jason Todd, but neither myself nor the girl are lambs to be slaughtered so easily. I would have slain him for your sake, and our own. Do not think we fail to see how it pains you, every moment that that fatherless creature continues to breathe. He must be ended."

Well hell, the Empress really _was_ coming out a lot more often. And that wasn't the royal we, she was talking about Kala. Jay nodded to her seriously. "Not in public. We got lucky, this time. Don't let the sonofabitch get his hands on you again. He might have a clue what you are, and I'm not gonna lose you."

"Nor will I allow us to lose you. You are _ours_, Jason Todd, and I will always defend what is _mine_." Her eyes didn't spark red, but something about her gaze made it clear that the Empress was very, very serious … and not entirely sane.

Shit, neither was he. Although having to focus on her was doing wonders for him _not _thinking about that nightmare. Jay smirked a little. "Possessive much? You gonna brand the S-shield on my hip?"

Kala Kal-El sneered at that, though her eyes were not as cold as her assessing gaze normally could be. "You know very well I do not mean to claim you as a possession. Do not dissemble with what we both know to be true."

All right, maybe he needed to shift this conversational track a little. "You know something else that's true? We're both naked, you're sitting in my lap, and things are gonna get pretty awkward here in a minute. The thing is, I'm not scared of you like everyone else. And I can't help remembering my earnest attempt to fuck you through this mattress a couple hours ago."

He figured that either the crude language or the sexual innuendo would scare her off. She _did_ suddenly tense up, mostly likely suddenly aware of all the icky anti-Kryptonian skin-to-skin contact going on … but to his surprise, the Empress didn't move or disappear. Instead, her expression slowly softened as she studied his face, searching for something, her brows furrowed. Right about the time Jay would've made another comment, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his this time, Jay only belatedly remembering that he had done so to her the last time.

Jay knew instantly this _wasn't_ Kala. Kala kissed him like his mouth was hers any time she wanted, same as he did, and honestly, he was more than fine with that. She also kissed him sometimes sweet and simple, just a brief bit of affection, something uncomplicated and true. Here, tonight, the Empress kissed him like it meant the world, and like she thought he'd pull away. It surprised him yet again to realize that, maybe, it _did_ mean the world, for her.

So Jay kissed her back, and was mindful of where his hands were, keeping them on her shoulders and her sides. In some ways, for all the ferocious rage that made her seem older and more world-weary than Kala herself, the Empress was still that sixteen-year-old girl, her mind unraveled by lies in the mould of a broken and lost world she had longed for, backed into a corner and fighting for her life. A sixteen-year-old girl who, maybe, somehow saw deep down to that broken and lost kid he used to be and sometimes still was, little as he was willing to admit it.

He couldn't exactly take liberties with her. And wasn't that a ridiculous thought, with her already in his lap and kissing him like she never wanted to stop? What did it say that the Empress would allow herself to do this, when she had always protested human needs?

She pulled back a moment to catch her breath, wide-eyed and looking a bit dazed when she shifted her weight slightly to lean against him, and in a minute or so it was gonna get real awkward for her. No matter what was going on, no matter how complicated his mixed reaction to her alter ego was, Jay always responded to a gorgeous woman kissing him like nothing else under the sun mattered. That it was _this_ woman, well, he was a goner.

"That makes you mine, too," he told her. Jay cupped the back of her neck the way Kala liked, and deepened the kiss. The Empress made a little sound, half surprise and half pleasure, maybe the tiniest moan in the mix, but she didn't draw back until he did, needing air. She looked at him out of Kala's eyes, then, gasping softly, and he _saw_ the instant she realized how she affected him.

For the briefest moment, Jay saw her startled and curious gaze before Kala was back, blinking at him in honest confusion. Jay couldn't help chuckling. "Well, add popping a boner to the list of ways to subdue the Empress."

And Kala, instead of freaking out as she sometimes did when the Empress had taken control, amazed him when she threw her head back and laughed. "Are you serious? Robin, what _is_ it with you and the dick jokes, oh my _God! _Even with her?"

"Look, just be happy I don't get upset when a woman laughs at my dick," Jay teased.

Kala stopped, looked down, and looked back up at him with a disbelieving expression. "I have never once been anything but appreciative of that specific one, thank you very much. No, I'm laughing because you used the phrase 'pop a boner' about the _Empress_, of all people, for the love of God."

Jay just shrugged. "Biology happens. And the Empress is making it pretty clear that she's very protective of me. I guess she's decided I'm fun to hang out with. I introduce her to all the best people, you know."

"Yes, well, so we both have that in common." Kala was quiet a moment as she nuzzled him, probably thinking, before she murmured thoughtfully, "Who knows, if she was reaching out to you like that, maybe we're getting closer to healing the split."

Personally, Jay thought she was being too optimistic about that. The Empress was still just as different as she'd ever been, still talking about Kala like she was someone else. She and Kala shared some priorities, and some interests, but they didn't seem any closer to being one person. No, he'd just given the Empress another reason to come out. She started just being protective of Kala's own safety, now she was ready to roll out in Jay's defense, too.

At least they had a better handle on the situation, and he had ways to calm her down. Although this one _wasn't_ going in the file.

Speaking of _this_ … Jay caught hold of Kala's hips and pulled her closer. "Well, in the interest of _both_ of our continued mental health, maybe we should make sure to keep the Empress asleep a little while longer."

Kala smiled, giving him that fey little smile that he knew so well, though those gorgeous eyes were a little sad. "I'd like that. Maybe you'll be able to sleep afterward. Seems like I'm falling down on my job as dreamcatcher."

Jay nudged her nose with his, abruptly enough to startle her, and spoke sternly. "Knock that off. I never expected you to chase off every bad thing that's ever happened to me. You filter out most of it; not your fault the nightmare factory decided to start pumping out some high-test bullshit lately. Now are we gonna have sex, or you wanna beat yourself up some more?"

He half intended to piss her off with that; arguing was better than K blaming herself. Instead, she stroked the back of her hand down over his cheekbone. Her smile was a little wistful then, running her thumb over his lower lip. "My Jaybird, always looking out for me."

"Same way you look out for me, Princess," Jay told her, and _that_ brought the spark back into her eye.

Kala had him pinned before he even knew what was happening, kissing him demandingly. Her eyes had that wild, hungry light back in them when they pulled back for breath, gaze hot on his when she murmured, "Someone had better watch out for that mouth of yours."

With that, Kala nuzzled against his neck, nipping gently, and Jay was all too happy to let her take charge, and let both of them forget the shadows lurking in their minds.

…

Two days after they'd settled into the house in Denver, it was time to go meet the business guys again. At an unholy seven in the morning, too. Harley let Bud and Lou out after breakfast, then locked them into their kennels; she couldn't trust them not to wreck the place while she was gone, and they wouldn't need the extra muscle for this. Stephen and Neal didn't act like the kind of people who had the first clue of where to hire goons, and Pam was fairly relaxed about the meeting.

Then again, Pam was damn near a goddess in her own right, something Harley had whispered in her ear as they snuggled together last night. Usually Pam denied statements like that, but last night she'd just wrapped her arms around Harley and fallen asleep. Which would be a little bit worrying, if Harley hadn't been feeling so damn _good_.

As it turned out, waking up every morning _not_ sore from a beating, with the endorphin rush of good sex lingering in her brain, and without having to worry about anything, was sort of shockingly nice. For years, Harley had woken up every morning trying to plan ways to _not_ piss off Mistah J, trying to be perfect so he wouldn't have to hurt her. The last few weeks with Pam, she'd woken up every morning worrying about whether the Joker or Batman would find them, knowing that either way she'd probably end up dead. Now, she was getting a taste of security. They'd covered their tracks really well, and she was far enough away from Gotham that she began to feel safe.

Until this morning, when she came back into the rental place's little kitchen – that smelled of cinnamon and nutmeg, not because of stress-baking, but because it was a shame _not_ to put that nice shiny new oven to use – and saw Pam looking at her phone with an utterly blank expression. Harley knew that face; Pam never wanted anyone to see her upset or scared, so she just kind of froze up. The impassive mask was intimidating to anyone who didn't know her.

"Pam? What is it?" Harley asked, and all the old ingrained responses kicked in. Where was the nearest weapon, how fast could she grab the essentials and get the boys in the car, did they have time to lay a trap for whoever was coming, could they get out or were they going to have to fight their way out?

The redhead looked up, and her gaze cleared. "Harley … he's back in Arkham."

All the adrenaline whooshed out of her, and Harley leaned on the kitchen counter. "Oh God, I thought you were gonna tell me he was on his way _here_."

Pam shook her head. "No, not that. But he was taken at the Mistletoe Masquerade. The Bats got him, but he had a hostage who's reportedly unhurt."

Harley shivered. "The Mistletoe thing is run by the Waynes. Selina might've been there with her boy-toy Brucie. He must've been going for her."

"I'm going to check in with her on Capespotting and make sure she's all right," Pam said, scrolling through to the browser and finding the forums. Harley hung over her shoulder; they needed to leave soon, to go do whatever it was Stephen and Neal had hired Pam for, but she was worried anyway.

Pam made a new account with a temporary email address, picking RamblingRose161 for a username, and messaged the moderator of the Catwoman fan page, MeowMix92. In the subject line she just put 'Checking In', and the body of the message was simply, 'Gf and I saw the news about the Mistletoe Masquerade. You ok?'

"She can't really mistake that as being someone else," Harley sighed. "I really hope she's okay."

"Me, too. Come on, let's get ready. It might take her a while to respond." Pam kissed Harley's cheek, and they both got changed for the day.

At home, Pam tended to wear less clothing – she liked sunlight on her skin. Harley never complained, either, she looked damn good in just a blouse and panties, with those long legs on display. Harley herself was more the shorts and t-shirt type. Neither of their around-the-house outfits would work for a business meeting.

Harley thought about wearing her jester uniform for about a tenth of a second, but the image in her mind's eye turned her stomach. Nope, she was done with the whole clown aesthetic for a while, maybe forever. At the same time, it felt _weird_ to go out as herself while wearing normal clothes. There was also a practical side: it was in the forties out there, and she needed to stay warm. Pam had the heat in here cranked up to a balmy seventy-eight degrees, but they were gonna need coats and hats outside.

So she bundled up in layers, and even pulled on gloves. Since they were dealing with civvies, she didn't expect much trouble, but Harley brought her loaded revolver and some extra rounds just in case. The bat and the mallet were both a little too ostentatious; a taser stolen from a cop a while back made a nice backup though.

Pam had dressed much the same, with no visible weaponry because she _was _the weapon, and was wrapping a scarf around her neck when they met in the garage. There was no small talk during the drive, which turned out to be pretty short, ending at a tall double fence surrounding a huge, low-slung building. There was an intercom at the gate, and all Pam had to say was, "This is Ivy, here to meet with Stephen," and it rolled open all slick and professional. Harley's curiosity was seriously piqued. She desperately wanted to ask what they were doing, but figured Pam would've told her if she wanted her to know. So she waited patiently – something difficult for her, but Pam was worth it.

As they pulled into a garage and parked, Neal was already there to meet them. "Good morning, ladies," he said as they opened their doors.

Harley couldn't help an amused chuckle. "Most people aren't this glad to see us."

Neal looked confused. "Well, we asked you to come here. Why wouldn't we be glad you did?"

Harley just looked at him for a moment, wondering how anyone could be that naïve. Was he really just assuming that as long as he was civil, they'd return the favor? Didn't he read up on either of them? Neither she nor Pam were known for treating people _nicely_. Well, kids were off limits, and they didn't usually kill civvies, but they weren't _good guys_. Harley herself had put five men in the hospital while she was at Belle Reve, just because she was bored.

They were prison guards, though, they didn't count as civilians.

"Harley, darling, don't scare the man," Ivy said with a trace of humor in her voice, and Harley shook herself. Right, they were playing nice.

"Sure, sweetie," Harley said, and hopped out of the van, closing her door behind her. The garage was enclosed so the wind couldn't reach them, but that kept out the sun, too, so the space was as cold as a refrigerator. She shivered, and followed Pam and Neal into the building.

The first room was all gleaming white and chrome, some kind of showroom where the products weren't actually on display, just the company name in tasteful green font. Stephen met them there, and the two men led them straight through to a hallway, and then an anteroom that brought back memories of lab class in medical school. Along one wall was a row of white lab coats and a rack of gloves, caps, masks, and even booties to cover their shoes. Everything was brand-new and the coats all had the company name on them, too.

Pam looked at it all with a cynical eye as Neal and Stephen both started gloving up. "Is all of this entirely necessary?" Pam asked.

"Our reputation is built on the purity of our product. We're working with very delicate, rare strains here – any outside contamination could set us back years in development," Stephen said with an apologetic shrug.

Sighing, Pam lifted a lab coat from the rack, and Harley followed her example. Once they were all gloved up, Neal led them into the next room, and Harley got her first hint of what was really going on here.

The entire massive room was one enormous hydroponics operation, with thousands of seedlings about a foot high. Harley recognized the leaves, and bit her lip against the exclamation of surprise she wanted to make. With superhuman self-control, she managed to just say, "Pammy?"

"Yes," Pam said, cutting her a quelling look.

Neal turned around, and beamed. She'd seen that nerdy grin before, including in the mirror. Obviously he was the lab guy, while Stephen was the front-office guy. "It's amazing, isn't it? Everything's computer-controlled, the water level, the airflow, the humidity, the macronutrient levels, the light duration, all of it. We have continuous video monitoring too. No one actually _needs_ to walk into these rooms, except to double-check the system, until they're ready to move to the grow-outs."

Harley was all out of self-control. She didn't want to crap all over the guy's enthusiasm, though, so she looked at Pam. "Ivy, sweetheart, you know they grow pot in Gotham, too, right?"

"Not like this," Neal said quickly, with a slightly fanatical gleam in his eye. "Recreational marijuana isn't legal in your state yet, but it is here. So we don't have to hide our operation. We can comply with all state laws and build the perfect growing operation. This isn't a dozen random-bred plants in someone's basement; this is one of four isolated rooms growing almost thirty different varieties of sativa and indica strains, as well as carefully-selected hybrids. Our main business is producing seed for other breeders and growers. No one else has a facility this advanced."

Stephen cut in then. "Much of our original seedstock came from British Columbia, where cannabis has been legal for years. They really have a jump on us in terms of experience, and there are actually a lot of other facilities similar to this one, if not quite as state of the art."

"Phillips is still growing outdoors," Neal muttered, in the same tone Harley would've ascribed to someone in the medical field basing their treatment on the four humours.

"The point is, our edge on the market comes from having access to the rare, pure strains that no one else seems to have," Stephen continued. "Unfortunately, some of those strains are extremely slow-growing. In the time it takes us to get one batch of plants to flower, our competitors can get through two generations of their hybrids. We have much more specialized plants, with higher levels of THC or CBD for different needs, but we're being out-competed by high volumes of mediocre product."

Harley nodded, trying to control her expression. "Gotcha. This isn't _pot_. This is _artisanal _marijuana. Boutique reefer. You guys are the Evian of weed."

Pam smirked a little, but no one laughed – though Neal did look a little stung. "For years, people only bred for THC content, and now there's more information on the medicinal effects of CBD, too. Plus people want reliable blends of both, and there's lots of interest in the historical landrace strains. We're on the verge of losing some of the earlier genetics, and who knows how the market will change tomorrow? No one predicted the shift to CBD strains, and everyone's scrambling to make hybrids that meet today's needs. We're trying to preserve some cannabis history, and position ourselves to create the next generation of hybrids for the modern consumer's tastes. The key might lie in some of the older, more neglected strains that have been ignored in favor of new hybrids."

"We're not exactly here to judge you, gentlemen. And I assure you, I understand the value of conservation for its own sake," Pam said, giving Harley a sidelong glance. Under that look, she managed not to say 'hipster ganja' out loud, and just nodded. It was good work, but kinda downmarket for someone like Poison Ivy. Then again, she'd chosen the venue, and she turned to the men to say, "Let's get to work, shall we?"

Neal nodded, and as he walked down the long row of plants, he told them a little more about the operation. Obviously the whole thing was his pride and joy, and Harley couldn't help liking the sheer geekiness on display. "This room's seedlings are all clones of sativa strains being produced for the sale of seeds. We've got them sorted, females in this room, males in the next, with completely separate and redundant air filtration so we don't have any accidental pollination. Only when it's time to breed do we bring them together. The female plants are also examined daily for any signs of damage that might lead to hermaphroditism. Some operations use those hermaphrodites to produce feminized seed for commercial sale to smaller growers, but we're primarily breeders. We want to explore new phenotypes within the pure strains and create our own hybrids."

Pam walked down a row parallel to him, and she didn't touch a single plant … but they all stirred slightly in their pots, stems bending toward her. Stephen, walking down the outside of the last row with Harley, widened his eyes a little at the sight. "You _did_ know who you were hiring, right?" she asked softly.

"It's a little different, seeing her in person," Stephen murmured.

"Can't argue with that," Harley replied, glancing toward Pam with a fond smile.

Neal led them through an airlock to another room at the back of the first one, where the rich scent of loam made a stark contrast to the faint chemical smell of the hydroponic setup. He had twenty young plants there, in large pots of soil, and looked hopefully at Pam. "All of these girls are purebred Black African Magic. Very rare, in the current market. Those two rows in the first room are all seedlings produced by cloning from the two adult female plants we were able to propagate. These are the results of breeding those two females, and I've got some males in the next room. If we can bring these seedlings to flowering age faster, we can start breeding our own strain and selecting for exactly the traits we want."

Pam nodded, and simply said, "Stand back. Get ready to water them, too."

He did so, nervously, watching the plants as he picked up a small hose. They were even smaller than the ones in the first room, maybe eight inches high, and they looked comically tiny in the big pots. Ivy stepped up to the first two plants, and held her hands out above them.

Harley knew what was coming, but the two men gasped when those first plants shot upward. Ivy looked up, her eyes blazing, and the rest of them began to grow, too. The pots crackled as the roots strained for room, and soon the dark leaves were higher than Pam's head. The smell of green, growing things filled the room, and Harley smiled. She might be more used to acid and cordite and gasoline, herself, but Pam always brought the scent of _life_.

"That is _incredible_," Neal whispered, looking up at the waving fronds in disbelief even as he watered the pots.

When Ivy spoke, he looked at her, and noticed the change in her eyes. For the first time, the guy looked really worried. But all she said was, "You love them, your green children. Not the profit they make for you. You love _them_."

"Yes, I suppose so," he said awkwardly. "It's an amazing challenge and puzzle to figure them out. How…?"

Poison Ivy smiled at him, as the nearest plants bent their leaves to stroke her upraised hands. "They told me so. Come, show me the rest. These will flower today, they must have males available."

For the next hour, Neal and Stephen led them both into a bunch of similar rooms, and Ivy worked her magic. Tiny sprouts became towering plants, and the men looked on in awe. For most of the strains, there was a room full of clones and then a separate group of seedlings, and Neal couldn't help murmuring a bit of information about each. "Hindu Kush, an indica strain, possibly the closest we have to the original variety from which everything else was developed. These days, it's so heavily hybridized the pure genetics are on the verge of being lost," he said of one group. In the next room, he pointed out, "Original Haze, the parent strain of many hybrids including Hawaiian Snow." And then Lamb's Breath, Angola Roja, true Panama Red, Malawi Gold … Harley's head began to spin with all the various names, most of which were apparently on the verge of extinction for one reason or another and almost all seemed to be imported at great expense.

Finally the tour ended in an office, with a couple of briefcases Harley assumed were full of the rest of their payment. By this time, the two men ought to know not to try and stiff them. Both Neal and Stephen seemed thrilled, and Pam was looking a little fatigued. Harley figured they were winding down, and hoped like hell Pam had gotten a good price from them. Whatever they paid, they'd certainly gotten their money's worth.

"It's been a pleasure doing business with you," Stephen said, and clicked open the first briefcase. Harley took out a stack of hundreds and fanned it, smiling. This was a damn good score – and even more so when the second, smaller briefcase turned out to contain diamonds. Harley had to admire Pam's savvy. By splitting the payment into two different forms and getting some of it up front, she'd made it easier for them to transfer their funds. And the total was very nice: a cool twenty million for an hour's work.

Then again, who else in the world could do what Pam had just done?

…

Jay woke up slowly from an annoying dream of trying to catch up to Kala at the airport. Why the hell scenes from the summer were replaying now, he had no idea, but for whatever reason, he was dreaming about shoving through a crowd of commuters and yelling at her to wait. The most illogical thing about it was K not _hearing_ him. He had something he needed to tell her, and couldn't catch her in time.

Fucking bullshit. At least it beat last night's nightmare. He didn't want to see Kala's blood anymore. The images were too damn disturbing. At least chasing her through an airport was just irritating.

He sat up, raking a hand through his hair, and looked over at her. Jay stopped cold, staring in disbelief.

Kala lay on her side, holding her pillow; they'd ended up sleeping back to back last night. Usually she sprawled all over him or he wrapped around her, but maybe he'd just tossed and turned last night. Apparently someone thought she needed extra cuddles, though, because there were _five_ fucking cats lined up down the length of her body. Plus two more on his goddamn bed.

Perched on Kala's pillow, Miss Kitty looked at him and blinked slowly. Norway was curled up on Kala's bare shoulder, fluffy tail draped down her arm. The one they rescued from the garland, Batty, was draped over Kala's ribs on top of the covers. The two tabbies, Bolt and Belle, had somehow managed to twine around each other and still have space on Kala's hip. And the other black one, Lydia, was sitting in the crook of her knee. At the foot of the bed was the black and white one who had climbed the Christmas tree, Freyja, and as soon as Jay looked directly at her, she leapt off the bed and hid under it.

"How the actual fuck did you guys get in here?" Jay asked aloud in utter disbelief.

The sound of his voice in the silent room made Kala start and she raised her head blearily before noticing the furry weights ranged down her side. "Well, good morning, girls," she said, her voice still fuzzy.

Miss Kitty yawned, and under the bed, Freyja _waowed_ at them. Kala shifted to look up, and saw Miss Kitty over her head. Sleepy as she was, she turned a smile of affectionate surprise on Selina's favorite and held out her hand for a dainty sniff. "Oh, _hi_. Good morning. This is unexpected. And they're all purring, too. I guess I got the red carpet treatment this morning, huh, pretty girl?"

"You _are_ the red carpet. K, how'd they get in here? I have security, for fuck's sake." Jay stood up, finding his boxers tangled in the sheets, and padded over to the door – which was still locked. "This is goddamn impossible."

"They managed it somehow," Kala countered, slowly sitting up, trying to disturb them as little as possible. Despite her care, the cats jumped off her as she rose and got comfortable on Jay's bed; he hoped like hell none of them had fleas. _He'd_ had fleas before, they were a bitch to get rid of.

A more extensive check revealed a window was open. Jay didn't have bars on it; he used the windows as potential exits. He _always_ locked the one that opened to the fire escape, and the window closest to the bed was the one Kala had burst in the one time. Usually he kept it locked, too. Jay stared at it, and a hazy memory surfaced of cracking it open last night for some fresh air. That was right after they'd gotten themselves all heated up, so it made sense – and he knew he _could_ leave a window cracked, when he had a Kryptonian in his bed.

Jay opened it further and leaned out, trying to see how the cats had come in. He felt fur brush his arm, and Miss Kitty nonchalantly leapt down to the three-inch-wide stringcourse two feet below his window. Strolling as easily as if it were highway width, and not thirty-five fucking stories up, she went around the corner to the fire escape. That wasn't an easy transition, either, Jay had knocked down the protruding brick there with a hammer to make any adventurous burglars think twice. Besides, the fire escape itself was rigged with a hot wire at the second story, so no one would try climbing up from the ground. "Jesus fuck, K, these ballsy goddamn cats," he said, and then realized all the windows on the cats' floor should've been locked, too. "Hey, all the windows were locked, weren't they?"

"Donna and I looked, they all seemed painted shut," Kala said, coming over to him with a worried frown.

The rest of the cats were in no hurry to follow Miss Kitty, so Jay closed the window. "Let's herd them down a little bit more safely," he said.

Nodding, Kala grabbed some clean clothes from the stash of her stuff in his dresser, while Jay just threw on a shirt and jeans. The cats all perked up, watching them with interest, and when Jay went toward the door, all of them followed except for Freyja. "I guess you'd better get the Fraidy-cat," Jay said.

"Come on, girl," Kala said, crouching down to peer under the bed. There were more complaining whines, that drew all the other cats back to Kala, but when she stood up with the black and white cat in her arms, they all clustered around her feet like something out of a Disney film. Jay just shook his head, disarmed the door, and headed for the stairs. He didn't think he could get all of them into the elevator.

Halfway down the stairwell, Miss Kitty met them, perched in the stairwell window that Jay left open for air circulation. The stairwell windows all had bars and wire mesh, but Jay now saw the mesh in this one had come up in one corner. There was just enough room for a cat to squeeze through, which meant the escapees had gotten into the stairwell, out this window, along the stringcourse to the fire escape, then climbed that to his floor and followed that stringcourse around to the open window. One hell of a journey just to sleep on a Super.

"Thanks, cat. I need to fix this," Jay said, and Miss Kitty meowed at him as if answering. She hopped off and trotted down the stairs.

All of them were clustered at Kala's feet when Jay open the door into the tenth floor, the only stairwell door he'd left unlocked in case they needed to evac the cats … and his jaw dropped, staring. "What the _fuck_…?"

"Holy shit," Kala whispered, and set down Freyja.

Bits of rope and carpet fuzz from the cat trees were scattered everywhere. And the hallway paint had long, ragged furrows raked into it. Jay saw smudgy paw prints all the way up to his head height. And in the middle of the hallway, Miss Kitty sat down to groom her paws with a nonchalant air.

Jay took out his phone and dialed the Manor. Alfred answered, and only for his sake was Jay civil. "Hey, is Selina up? Her cats went ballistic."

"I shall see if she is available. May I place the call on hold?" Alfred asked.

"Of course," Jay said, and then seethed silently until Selina picked up. He didn't let her get two words in before he said sharply, "You're gonna owe me a complete deep-clean and repaint on this entire floor, Catwoman."

"What?" she replied. "I _told_ them…"

"Well they didn't fuckin' listen," Jay shot back.

Kala cleared her throat, looking at him. "To be fair, Miss Kitty probably freaked out last night. That would've gotten the others stirred up too."

"To be fair, all this has to be sanded and repainted. There's claw marks almost to the ceiling, Selina." Jay couldn't help softening a little when Kala pointed that out, though. Selina _had_ been in danger last night, and she'd left Miss Kitty locked up here. Not that he didn't suspect _that_ cat could get out of anything. She'd somehow gotten the stairwell door open early this morning … and closed it behind her, too.

"I'm good for it, you know I am," Selina said. "I can't blame her for being upset. Cats are very sensitive."

Jay scoffed. "Yeah, and Hoods are sensitive to property destruction. I swear to God, Selina, if they pissed all over the place, you're gonna pay for new floors."

Selina said hastily, "She wouldn't do that. Look, do you want me to come over there?"

"No, it's fine. We need to talk about moving them back at some point. With Joker in Arkham, you don't quite need my level of security." Jay couldn't blame her for being worried.

Selina sounded a little more relaxed. "True. Hopefully Joker _stays_ there longer this time. Listen, Bruce is expecting you both to come over here for a debrief. Will you bring Miss Kitty? I miss my girl, and she'll settle down if she's with me."

"How are we supposed to bring her if she won't go in the carrier?" Jay asked.

"Just tell her you're coming to see me, she'll follow you," Selina said blithely.

Jay looked at Miss Kitty, who stopped grooming between her toes to look up at him. He could almost swear that was a questioning expression. "Selina, are you telling me that cat understands English?"

"Of course not!" Selina laughed. "But cats understand a lot more than we give them credit for. They can read more in your body language and tone of voice than words would ever tell. Miss Kitty is very perceptive."

Jay stared at the elegant black cat, who hiked her leg further up and began grooming the base of her tail pointedly. Kala stifled a laugh. Jay just said into the phone. "I'm calling bullshit on that. This cat is not fucking normal. Where'd you get her, Selina?"

"Miss Kitty just wandered into my life one day when I really needed her. Like most cats do," Selina told him.

"Was this before or after you became Catwoman?" he asked.

"_Jay,_" Kala hissed warningly.

"I was always Catwoman. I just didn't always know it. See you shortly, Hood. I'll go tell Bruce you're conscious." With that, Selina hung up on him.

"Well _that_ was cryptic as fuck," Jay commented, sticking the phone back in his pocket.

"Aren't cats naturally cryptic?" Kala asked lightly.

"Selina isn't a cat, no matter how hard she tries," Jay said, and grinned. "Hell, you think Bruce would've noticed if she turned into a leopard like something outta _Cat People_."

Kala startled. "You saw that one, too?"

Well, that was a pleasant surprise. "It was on TV one night. I like old horror movies – they're more campy than scary. How did _you_ end up seeing it? I figured it'd be too schlocky for you."

"Oh no, I love to watch bad horror movies. I like them more than the good ones, usually. There's this series…" Kala trailed off, and her expression changed.

"What is it?" Jay asked, looking at her worriedly.

She gave him a sad smile. "I was about to start extolling the virtues of the Chupacabra series. I've got all of them on Blu Ray, and they're between halfway decent for a Mexican B-movie, and that means they're _terrible_. But Sebast was the one who watched them all with me. That was his prescription for a bad breakup: mango ice cream and monster movies."

Jay nodded, treading carefully. She and Sebast had a whole history together he mostly knew nothing about, and all kinds of little insider stuff like that. K didn't hide things from him, it just hadn't come up in conversation. He couldn't get pissy at her for having had a relationship with the guy. Especially not when breakup-consolation was definitely best-friends territory.

So he just gave her a grin, and said, "I think I've seen one of those. Isn't it kind of _Jaws_ on land? Stupid developer wants to build a resort in the jungle when everybody knows there's something out there eating people?"

"That's _Chupacabra 3D: Goatsucker's Revenge_," Kala said promptly. "They had a better effects budget for that one. Funny you mention _Jaws_ – most of the critics credit the success of the original _Chupacabra_ film to the fact that you never see the monster. In _Jaws_, they spent tons of money on the animatronic sharks – named Bruce, by the way – and then they didn't work half the time, so Spielberg had to rethink how he was going to shoot it, and show the shark as little as possible. It's great for suspense. _Chupacabra: Night of the Goatsucker_ did the same thing because their trained, costumed dog ran off three days into filming. Be glad you only saw the third one; it and the first are pretty much the best."

Jay cocked his head in surprise. "Holy shit, Roger Ebert, I didn't realize you watched the making-of and everything. Hell, I didn't even know you watched scary movies."

"I'm pretty much Goth, for all intents and purposes, Jay; it kinda comes with the territory," Kala laughed. "Just don't, _please_ don't watch the rest of the _Chupacabra_ movies. The sixth one came out last year and it _sucks_. It's not bad enough to be fun, it's just bad."

"Now I'm gonna watch it," he teased, and she mock-scowled at him. At least he'd successfully prevented her from getting maudlin over the whole Sebast situation.

Miss Kitty, sitting between them, tipped her head back and gave a tiny, bell-like mew. When they both looked at her, she opened her green eyes wide, and mewed again. Kala chuckled. "Well, she's finished her bath and wants us to get a move on, I guess. I'll sweep this up later. Let me make sure they have food and water before we go, okay? Give us just a bit, beauty, and we'll get you back to Selina, okay?" Again, that dainty mew, and Kala gave a small laugh and a smile. "Okay. Soon."

"Sure," Jay said, and as Kala went to check the automatic feeders and the water fountains, he looked down at Miss Kitty skeptically. "Listen, are you some kind of supernatural creature? Because you're weird as fuck, and Selina's not normal either."

Miss Kitty crossed her eyes and sneezed at him, then started scratching her ear. Jay wasn't buying it. Kala, who had heard him ask, snorted amusement from the nearest room.

…

Halfway across the world, the last light was bleeding from the sky, and Adem was finally off duty. He'd spent the past eight hours on surveillance of an utterly nondescript handful of buildings in a walled compound, the residence of one particular family. With a scope and a directional microphone, he might as well have been sitting beside them as the women hung out laundry to dry, and the elderly patriarch complained about everything from his dinner, to the type of laundry soap they used, to the fecklessness of today's youth. It had been a struggle not to fall asleep at his post. He would rather have spent his time watching the fennec fox that lived nearby as it hunted jirds among the scrubby plants. Nothing about this family – the old man, his wife, their two absent sons and _their_ wives, and five children – merited any kind of notice.

Except, of course, for the fact that their home lay within a mile of the Tibesti mountain compound that Shiva wanted. Adem's immediate superior, one of Shiva's lieutenants named Tareq, suspected that they might be advance lookouts for Ra's al Ghul. Talia had not indicated there were any scouts in the area, but he was well aware she didn't tell him _everything_. The many perks of his position were worth putting up with a little secrecy.

He completed his shift without complaint, and returned to their camp to hand his notes over to Tareq. The older man looked through them, and tossed them aside. "They would not reveal their purpose until they sighted a stranger, anyway. Ah well, we cannot discount them."

"I doubt they would pose much threat," Adem replied. "Both sons work in the city, and the old man needs a cane and ten minutes just to reach his chair in the sun."

"Don't discount the women. If I learned nothing else from Ra's al Ghul, it was never to assume a woman was harmless. Have you met the daughter?" Tareq asked.

"No more than I met the father," Adem replied, the lie floating easily on his tongue. "They gave me orders, I did not sit down to tea with either of them."

"Hmph. Beware of her. Treacherous as an adder, that one, and swifter to strike. If she arrives in Libya, we must move quickly. I'll not get caught between Lady Shiva and the Demon's Daughter," Tareq replied.

Adem nodded, thinking that the poor fool had no idea he was _already_ caught between them – and on the wrong side. He also thought it was amusingly hypocritical of the man to call _Talia_ treacherous, when he was the one betraying the Demon.

Oh, it was technically true. Talia _did_ work against her father, when she felt it necessary, but she was far more loyal than anyone participating in this insurrection. The problem was, she let her heart rule her, and Adem was under no illusions about just who that heart belonged to. Not him, certainly. He was a useful diversion to Talia – though her essentially sentimental nature meant she couldn't quite help being fond of him. As long as he never betrayed her, that fondness kept him very well cared for, and very wealthy.

Talia would stab him, if she knew he thought such things of her; she despised being seen for the romantic she was. Her father was right on that score, she had a woman's soft-heartedness, though she kept it buried beneath layers of ruthless, murderous practicality.

And Tareq would gun him down, if he had any idea where Adem's loyalties really lay.

Adem felt the air change, as the door behind him opened, and he swiftly stepped aside. Turning to face the newcomer, he stopped with one hand on the hilt of his knife, and bowed his head instead of drawing the blade. "Lady Shiva," he murmured in his most respectful tone.

She regarded him silently for a moment, and Adem kept his head down, his gaze focused on her shoes. He was accustomed to the regard of dangerous, arrogant people – and she would have to alter her stance, if she meant to strike at him, so watching her feet was as good an advance warning as he might get.

Tareq had risen too, bowing to his new leader, and Shiva said quietly, "You are dismissed," before turning her attention to her lieutenant.

Adem dipped his head a little further, not wanting to seem too presumptuous, and scurried out. Honestly, he didn't have to fake all of the trepidation; the fact that Talia refused to face her spoke volumes about how deadly Shiva could be.

As the door closed behind him, he heard Tareq reporting to Shiva. Adem only caught about half the words – but he only needed one to know he had to report back to Talia, _immediately_.


	42. A Song from the Wrong Side of Town

**Authors' Note:** In the aftermath of the gala, it's time to hear from a few of our villains. Good luck guessing what we're foreshadowing here...

* * *

Bruce had waited for all of them to gather up before he debriefed them all, and Jay felt a little bit like a heel for having played hooky so long. The next instant, he decided fuck it, they deserved a break. After what happened at the gala, he couldn't blame himself or K for needing a night off.

Dick met them at the entrance to the Cave, and was just glad to see them both, wrapping Kala up in a tight hug. He stepped back and looked at her seriously. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, just rattled," Kala said with a smile.

And then Dick looked over at Jay. "How about you?"

"I'm fine, I'm not the one who got my throat cut," Jay replied, confused.

Dick just looked at him like he was being incredibly obtuse. "Jaybird, _I'm_ shaken up after that. Kala's your trainee _and your girlfriend_. I know perfectly well you're not all sunshine and rainbows right now."

Jay was right back to feeling like a jerk again. Not that he _wasn't_ shaken up – more than that, there was a deep nameless fear lurking down in his soul that he kept stamping on so he wouldn't have to see it. But Dick made it sound like he didn't care, like he wasn't taking this seriously, when the truth was he was just putting up a front.

It dawned on him that he didn't _have_ to put up a front for his family. They weren't the enemy anymore. Hell, they never had been.

Kala saved him with a chuckle. "Dick, if he _ever_ starts acting all sunshine and rainbows, I'll have him committed. Don't worry, we're both dealing with it. And at least one of us has had enough therapy to deal with it in a semi-healthy way." She gave him a wink, and he had to admire how adroitly she'd balanced between making light of the incident, and acknowledging the dangers.

Bruce had asked them to meet in front of the main computer, and Selina had taken that chair. As soon as Jay and Kala walked in – with Miss Kitty trotting along beside Kala, and thank God she'd ridden quietly in the Charger – she sat up straighter. "Hello, sweetheart, did you miss me?"

Miss Kitty broke into a run, head-butted her shins, and climbed into Selina's lap. Jay couldn't help grinning a little at the reunion, as Selina petted her cat and crooned while Miss Kitty rubbed her face against Selina's hands.

Suddenly, Selina yelped and Miss Kitty jumped to the console, where she sat licking her paw. "Really?" Selina said, shaking her hand. "All right, I'm sorry I left you behind, but _I_ was the one who was actually in danger. Biting me is just rude."

Miss Kitty paused her grooming just long enough to give Selina a withering stare, and then she resumed nibbling between her toes.

Dick chuckled at the pair of them. "You couldn't have brought her without advertising to everyone in town who you were. She's just mad you left her in a strange place."

Jay scoffed. "She's more than mad. You should see that whole floor of my apartment. Looks like a tornado hit a fork factory. There's all these neat little parallel scratch marks in the walls."

"It is pretty impressive," Kala admitted.

Bruce, meanwhile, just leaned over Miss Kitty and carefully pressed a couple of buttons. She leaned up and licked his chin, which made Bruce freeze and Selina hiss, "You little traitor! You don't even _like_ him!" Miss Kitty curled herself up into a ball right on the edge of the console, and ignored them all.

Meanwhile the green mask of Oracle appeared on the screen. "This is Oracle and company, reporting in. Everyone there on your end, Batman?"

"All present and accounted for," Bruce said, carefully stepping away from Miss Kitty. Jay could almost laugh at _Batman_ being cautious of an animal that weighed maybe ten pounds, but he'd seen the destruction Miss Kitty could wreak.

"Okay, this is what I have," Babs said. "I'm in Arkham's systems – they're due for an upgrade, by the way, they're running on software that's over ten years old – and Joker isn't on record anywhere saying anything. I don't like him being quiet."

Bruce nodded. "I'll want to get a listening device into his cell as soon as possible. I agree with you, he's normally very talkative. Being quiet makes me wonder what he's thinking."

Jay saw Kala take a breath then. "So … I might've started that. He complimented my mask, said I was wearing harlequin colors, and I told him the last time he crossed a harlequin, he ended up in the hospital."

"You _what_ now?!" Jay yelped, staring at her. "Jesus _fuck_, K, you told me you set him up to snatch you instead of someone else, you didn't tell me you fucking _antagonized_ him too!"

"He was in my face, I was trying to keep him off balance," she explained, looking a little hurt. Maybe she thought he didn't trust her to handle herself – when the truth was, he didn't trust _anyone_ not to get hurt or killed when Joker was in the mix. And then, when Bruce only looked at her steadily, Kala continued, "I also told him there was a rumor Harley had left town."

"Well, that explains why he's not talking," Babs said. "He said to tell Harley that was for her. One of his motives here was to flush her out of hiding. By murdering a hostage in front of Batman, he was sending her a message, and getting himself sent to Arkham would be the perfect place for her to meet him and finish it. Now that he knows she's left town, he'll be planning his escape."

Kala nodded soberly. Bruce just said, "That was my impression, too. He must think Selina is in contact with them. Sending a message like that to me would get back to Harley eventually."

"Oh good, if I tell him I snapped my sim card and have no idea where they are, will he leave me alone?" Selina asked plaintively.

"Unlikely. He'll suspect you have some way to reach them. Even if you don't, you're still the most likely person either of them would contact," Bruce replied.

"You wound me with the 'if', mister," Selina said archly, but Bruce just looked at her without surprise or condemnation.

Jay cut in then. "All I want to know, what're the odds Joker figured out who K is?"

Beside him, the woman in question winced. "When he grabbed me, one of his goons said he'd seen me dancing with one of the Waynes. Not which one, just that he knew I was connected to you guys."

"Yeah, but we bring a _lot_ of people to parties," Dick said. "He only saw your face for a few seconds."

"He might guess she's the Blur," Bruce cut in. "We have to assume he knows the hostage he took last night was a metahuman. Any normal human being would have died, even with swift medical intervention. And there are only two female metas who have been in Gotham recently. Joker might suspect Troia, but Blur has been here longer and works more closely with us more often. What remains debatable is whether he knows his hostage was Kala Lane-Kent, or KLK."

"He only saw her face for a few seconds. And there's no records of her being in Gotham this month," Dick pointed out, as Jay's stomach flip-flopped. "There's no reason for anyone to suspect that Blur ever left Gotham, or that KLK came back after the summer."

"And no official connection between Kala and Jay besides the video from Denver, which was never identified as Jay, and which is now hopelessly blurred," Babs added.

Jay gritted his teeth. "Yeah, but he might've realized Blur was reacting to kryptonite, when we ran into him at the school over the summer. And she used heat vision on the deadman switch he was holding."

"I don't think he realized that's what I did," Kala pointed out. "I was moving way too fast."

"If he has the slightest hint you might be Kryptonian instead of Amazon, he could ferret out your identity eventually," Bruce said grimly. "All he would need to do is investigate every woman significantly connected to us over the last six months. Anyone looking for a Kryptonian who realizes KLK stands for Kala Lane-Kent would draw the obvious conclusion. There's nothing more we can do to minimize that connection."

"It's still a long shot, predicated on him noticing something months ago that he's never bothered to try and follow up on," Babs replied. "And we know Joker is mainly focused on Harley right now."

Bruce shook his head fatalistically. "This is still not a risk we can safely take. We know Joker has had access to kryptonite in the past. He may acquire it again in the future. From here on in, we need to use extreme caution – and that means Kala is off the roster if we go up against Joker."

Jay saw the reasoning in it, and couldn't blame Bruce for being cautious. He couldn't disagree either. Images from nightmares haunted him, Kala's blood on his hands.

And then Kala lifted her chin, and said with a hint of the Empress in her tone, "With all due respect, Uncle Bruce, _fuck that_."

Everyone in the room turned to look at her in amazement, and Jay heard a noise over the comm like Roy stifling a laugh. Jay spoke up, even before Bruce could, telling Kala, "He's right. I'm not risking you."

"And I'm not risking _you_," she shot back. "I'll be careful, you know I will, but I'm not going to run home with my tail tucked under because Joker _might_ know who I am and _might_ have kryptonite. No, that's not how we do things."

"The way _we_ do things is to accept orders from those with more experience than you," Bruce added sternly.

Kala rounded on him. "Look, Uncle Bruce, I'm good and spooked, okay? I know I took a lot of risks last night, and I won't let him get that close again. But I'm not going to let you all wrap me up in cotton wool and keep me safe from the big bad Joker. He's not the only one in town who has kryptonite. Hell, it's not just kryptonite I have to worry about, Ivy or Scarecrow can get me with biochemistry, anybody with magic can knock me down, and apparently I also have to worry about freaking _Lazarus blades_ too. I'm not as invulnerable as I thought I was, but so what? It doesn't keep any of _you_ out of the field. Why should I let it hold me back?"

Jay just marveled at her for a moment. All of those nightmares, everything he feared, and Kala was squaring up to it. He _knew_ how much it frightened her to be vulnerable. And yet she was arguing with Bruce over being allowed to go after Joker. What the hell had he ever done to deserve a woman like her?

Nothing, that's what. Someone like K only came into his life by sheer luck. Jay didn't believe in grace.

Bruce regarded her stonily, and Babs spoke up. "This isn't a question that has to be answered right now. Joker is in Arkham for the moment. We'll get listening devices into his cell so we'll know if he's asking questions. And when he _does_ break out, we'll all be ready for him."

"It's better to have this understood ahead of time," Bruce said calmly, looking into Kala's defiant hazel eyes. "Your father trusted me to train you and guide you. I might have let Jay handle your training, to the benefit of both of you, but your guidance is still my purview. And no matter what you believe, you are _still_ not ready to take on Joker, especially not if he knows what you are and all of your weaknesses."

Kala set her jaw. Jay couldn't help remembering the last time they'd all been down here together; he'd been sarcastic and defiant, all nervy from the battle plan that was risking his trainee, and Kala had been polite and respectful, calling Bruce 'sir'. He didn't think they were gonna see that courtesy again for a while. "Is anyone ever ready for Joker? I'm an asset, not a liability."

"You will do as I tell you, if you want to continue working in Gotham," Bruce said simply.

Jay expected an eruption of profanity, and got ready to bodily drag Kala away if need be. Instead she just glowered at him. "Fine. But you can't stop me from watching and listening. If Joker gets out, I'll be on standby. You don't have enough kryptonite to keep me away, anyway."

"Your protectiveness does you credit," Bruce replied, and changed the topic as he so often did. "Now what was this about Lazarus blades?"

_Shit,_ Jay thought, because he hadn't said anything about _that_ recent revelation. There hadn't been time. And also, he didn't really want to let Bruce know the kris was a gift from Talia.

Kala must've caught onto that, and she changed tactics, too. "Oh, we found out in a sparring session that Jay's knife can cut me. Since the kris came from the League of Shadows, we suspect it might have been Lazarus-quenched, and that's why it can bypass my invulnerability."

That was _massively_ understating the whole situation, and Bruce looked at Jay flatly. It was all too easy to read mistrust into that expression – but Bruce had no reason to suspect. Trying to be as nonchalant as Kala had, he shrugged. "We found this out right before the news came in about the fire being targeted at all of us. Joker knowing our identities seemed more important than a knife I've had for years."

Bruce nodded, and held his hand out. "Let me see the knife."

Jay couldn't help bristling. "Am I going to get it back undamaged?"

"Probably," Bruce said.

"Then no dice. Sorry, B, the thing's too damn useful to risk. I don't have many weapons that'll work on the next General Zod or evil Amazon or whatever supernatural threats are out there." Jay hoped he'd said it lightly enough.

Kala didn't like him keeping the knife already. He did value it, first and foremost, as an extremely useful tool. But it was also just about the only memento of his training in the League of Shadows, and dammit he had a right to be proud of being good at what he did. Very few other people were on his level, and Bruce was one of them. Ironically, Kala resented the kris because Talia had given it to him, and that was the least of his reasons for keeping it.

Bruce looked at him curiously. "Ra's al Ghul would tell you not to value a weapon too highly. All of them can be replaced."

"Men most of all," Jay replied, echoing a saying he'd heard from more than one of his trainers. "Yeah, you trained with Ra's, I trained with Talia. And she doesn't let a good weapon go to waste just to make a point. Also, if this is what the deal is with the kris, I wouldn't be surprised if all her personal blades were Lazarus-quenched. Probably all of her dad's swords, too. Something to watch out for, if Daddy Demon ever decides to go up against the heavy hitters in the JLA."

"Duly noted," Bruce said.

Babs cleared her throat then. "If you two are finished? I have some contacts who might be able to examine the kris and promise not to alter it. This _is_ worth watching out for."

Selina had been watching the back and forth, and now she smiled. "Hmm, if I went and borrowed Talia's sword from her flat in London, would that repay the favor, Jay?"

"No, because she'll hunt you down and kick your ass six ways from Sunday," Jay said quickly. "Do _not_ screw around with her personal weapons." He still remembered the look on Talia's face – and the carefully worded, very controlled warning she gave him – the one time he picked up her engraved Python revolver.

"I may have an example we can study," Bruce said. "Before we get any further off track, I called you here to debrief. Last night all of us performed at the peak of our capacity. Kala, what you did was outside of scope, but given the outcome, it _was_ the only thing you could have done. No one was hurt, and the only person whose identity was further compromised was yourself."

"Very Super of you, risking yourself instead of us," Dick said lightly. Jay just rolled his eyes at that one.

Kala shrugged. "I saw you all leaving, and I couldn't catch up without causing a disturbance. I knew I was just buying you time, and I knew if he took a hostage, better me than someone else. I couldn't leave Dinah hanging either, she had her hands full with civilians."

Over Babs' comm, Dinah's voice came in clearly. "I never did get to thank you for that, by the way. _I_ was planning on being the hostage, until I saw that one kid. Even if you could've gotten me to a hospital fast enough to survive, I'm glad it wasn't me last night."

"Yeah, so am I," a male voice added fervently. Though Babs herself didn't speak up, Jay thought her lack of castigation at Kala for compromising herself was enough.

Bruce just nodded. "You did well. We all did. And Joker is safely back in Arkham, behind more layers of security than ever before."

Part of Jay hated that, knowing it'd be even harder to get to him now. He still wanted Joker _dead_ more than locked up. If he had to accept locked up for now, he could do that. He still had Kala at his side, no matter what.

Selina spoke up then. "If we're done here, I suppose I'll head over to your place and survey the damage. With Joker locked up, the cats can come home again. Unless you'd like to adopt?" She raised an eyebrow at Jay, smirking. "The pitter-patter of tiny feet does tend to liven up the place, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, I had seven fucking cats in my bed this morning, all lined up sleeping on top of Kala 'cause she's warm," Jay laughed. "Nope, I'm not adopting anything that gets in my way like that. But you know how to get in, so go for it."

Selina chuckled at that, and knocked her shoulder against Kala's. "At least we know she likes cats…"

"Stop it," Kala laughed.

Bruce ignored all of the joking. "That's all for now. Stay sharp – if Joker does know something, he'll make a move eventually."

…

Harley and Pam were all done, ready to load up their score and head out. This whole legitimate business thing wasn't so bad. Next thing you know, Harley might just get her medical license back. She still had all the skills and intuition she'd need to be a pretty good clinician.

"There was one more thing," Neal said, as Harley stacked the banded bills back in the first briefcase.

"Neal," Stephen said warningly.

"Look, you saw what she can do. It's not _impossible_. And you know how incredibly valuable it would be. There are literally _no pure males_ in the United States," Neal argued.

"It's outside the scope of what we asked for," Stephen countered.

"Okay, I'm curious now," Harley said, looking at Pam. The redhead looked interested, too, and she arched a brow at Neal.

"Oaxacan Highland Gold," he said, as if they would know that name. At their questioning expressions, he continued, "It's another historic landrace strain that grew wild in the mountains around Oaxaca, and was very popular in the sixties. It grows twelve feet high, it doesn't even look like the sativa strains we're used to, and it takes a long time to mature. Over the last few decades, the cartels have taken over that part of Mexico, and they plant all kinds of hybrid strains that cross-pollinate all the way up to the old highlands. You just can't find pure Oaxacan Highland Gold anymore. There's a guy who got hold of some and managed to pick the seeds out and successfully grow a female plant, but he didn't have a male to breed it with. He's working on a project to try and breed back the original type by crossing it with some of the strains that were developed from the original, but it's going to take _years_."

"And this is Neal's pet project that he's been bending my ear about since we started this business," Stephen put in.

Neal just rolled his eyes, and Harley couldn't help feeling camaraderie. The guy was clearly passionate about this, and he had about as much patience for administrators as she did, back in her professional life. "_Anyway_, I happen to be have a sample that was taken from a breeder back in the day, so there might be both male and female plants in it. It's been carefully preserved; there's no _seed_, but I've got leaves and buds and a little bit of stem. I was wondering, if there was any possible way you could maybe … bring it back to life?"

Now _that_ was interesting. Harley couldn't help remembering the way the bookcase in their apartment had sprouted, when the arboretum burned. Pam _could_ go that deep into the Green … but it wasn't _safe_.

This wasn't Harley's call to make, though, and she looked at Pam, ready to back her up whichever answer she gave. No one else could really gauge the extent of Pam's powers; if she said she couldn't do it, Neal would be disappointed, but he wouldn't know it had ever really been a possibility. If she did decide to try, it was her risk to take, and Harley just had to be ready to call her back. The Green might be some quasi-divine archetype of all plant life on Earth, but it couldn't be allowed to take Pam from her.

"Let me see the sample," Pam finally said, and Neal ran out of the office like a little kid told he couldn't go to the amusement park unless he got ready _right now_.

Stephen just sighed. "This is Neal's dream, but I admit, it would be extremely valuable. No one else in the northern hemisphere is able to breed pure Oaxacan."

"You asked me to grow up ten strains for you, at two million each," Ivy said. "What is this one worth?"

"Honestly, if this were another batch of seedlings like the rest, it'd be worth the same. But I understand there's more effort involved, though. Perhaps … five million?" Stephen was just making a guess, Harley could tell.

Neal came running back in, with a plastic bag that had a paper bag inside it. "I've been keeping this in a hermetically sealed safe since I got hold of it. Some desiccation is inevitable, given the age, but I know a team in Greenland has sprouted ten-thousands-year-old seeds they found in permafrost. So maybe…"

"You're not asking me to germinate seeds," Ivy said, cutting him off, but her tone was gentler than it usually was. She had a soft spot for botany geeks, too. "You're asking me to reanimate something that's _dead_. Admittedly, plants are a bit more forgiving in that regard than kingdom Animalia. Let me see it."

Almost trembling in anticipation, he handed over the bag. Ivy opened it, extracted the paper bag inside, opened that … and looked up at Neal. "You must be joking."

His face was the definition of crestfallen. "No, but … I knew it was a long shot. I just heard so much about you, half of what you do is impossible under the laws of science as we know them, I figured there might be a _chance_…"

Harley hated to see a man's dream die. Hell, these were decent guys, legit businessmen, they'd treated her and Pam like professionals instead of a freakshow. So she peeked over Pam's shoulder at the 'sample', ready to offer an encouraging word.

There was nothing encouraging to see. That was definitely some fifty-year-old weed. It looked completely dried out, like the last time it'd been smokable was before the invention of the computer, and as Pam tilted the bag, bits started to break off. "Okay, seriously, I was rooting for you – ha! _Rooting_, I didn't even do that on purpose! – but this is ridiculous. You need Plant Jesus for that resurrection."

"Harley," Pam said, with the hint of a smile. It was _funny_, dammit.

"Not even Plant Jesus, I mean Lazarus was only dead for like four days," Harley pointed out.

"_Harley_," Pam said again, and caught her gaze. Harley blinked, realizing she probably was stomping all over Neal's dreams, and one look at his woebegone face proved it. Besides, she wasn't the one who could decide if this was possible or not.

"Sorry," she said, and felt her shoulders try to rise in the beginnings of a cringe.

"It's fine," Pam told her, and turned back to the men. "She does have a point. This is on the order of a miracle, and I'll be frank, I don't know if I _can_ do this. I do know that trying is going to be exhausting. And dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Neal echoed, looking worried.

"I have to tap into the Green to work with any sort of plant life," Pam explained. "This would mean going deeper than I ever have before. And there's always a risk I might not come back."

"What does that mean?" Stephen asked cautiously.

Harley chipped in with, "It means she'll probably just kill all three of us for fertilizer, and a year from now this whole place will be a rainforest with a living goddess named Poison Ivy at the center of it. But Pam, the person who likes extra cream in her frappuccino, will be gone. I kinda have a vested interest in _not_ dyin' today, and an even bigger interest in her not gettin' obliterated." She looked up at Pam, meeting her gaze steadily. "You sure you wanna risk this, babe? It's just money."

"Not for him," Pam said, looking right at Neal.

He bit his lip. "Look, uh … I don't know you, or anything. Not really. I did read your wiki page before I talked Stephen into this deal, so it's not like I'm a total idiot here. But I don't want you to get hurt because of us. I mean, it's heritage cannabis, it's our specialty, and if this worked we'd have a corner on the market. _If._ We don't even know for sure if there's parts of a male plant in there. Back in the sixties, people included more leaves and stems than just buds, and I know that sample was intended to show the distinctive leaf shape, not for smoking, so there's a chance. But I can't tell you to risk that much for just a chance. It has to be your call. We're not twisting your arm here."

Pam looked at him intently, and Harley figured they were both seeing the same thing: a fundamentally good man with a dream. Harley wished he had a better sample of the stuff, he'd be exactly like a kid at Coney Island if Pam could pull this off.

And then Ivy turned to Stephen, her eyes calculating. "How much is it worth to you? For me to even attempt this, and for a success?"

"It's a great deal of risk for you," Stephen said.

"So is showing my face anywhere outside a heavily-concealed bunker," Pam told him. "I haven't often had the pleasure of meeting anyone who truly _loves_ his plants like Neal does. Not to mention, we _are_ talking about bringing a nearly-extinct plant back to life, which appeals to my sensibilities. Consider me intrigued."

"You think you really could?" Neal asked, brightening up again.

"I cannot promise you results, but I can make an attempt. I'll need more than five million dollars, though. And more than just a pot of soil. If you have a greenhouse, and if you can make it worth the risk…" Pam trailed off, raising an eyebrow.

"Take it out of my stock option," Neal said, looking at Stephen. "C'mon, this could be the biggest score of the _century_!"

"Neal, _please_ let me handle financial negotiations," Stephen said, but he was beaten and they all knew it. Neal's interest was far too obvious for him to try bargaining down the price, and it wasn't like anyone else could even attempt to play Plant Jesus. (Harley fully intended to call Pam that, in a week or a month when she'd mostly forgotten this whole situation, just to see the look on her face.) Stephen sighed, and looked at Ivy. "I can't do this in cash. It would have to be wire transfer. Five million for the attempt, another five if you succeed?"

"Five for the attempt, ten for the success," Ivy said.

"That's fifteen, almost what we paid you for ten other strains," Stephen pointed out.

"I only saved you time with the rest of them. This is an entirely different matter," Pam countered.

Stephen looked at Neal's hopeful puppy face, and sighed. "Five and eight?"

"Done," Pam said. "Harley, you're going to have to drive back if this works."

"Are you sure you don't wanna wait 'til tomorrow?" Harley asked. "I mean, you did flex a lot of plant power today."

Pam smiled at her. "I do believe the gentlemen will be happier without a second visit. You cleared out all of your employees for this, didn't you?" That was true, they hadn't seen anyone else despite walking through so many rooms.

"If this went wrong, I didn't want to risk anyone but us," Stephen said. "I also turned off the cameras. I assumed you wanted this visit strictly off the record just as much as we do."

"Do we really need another thirteen million?" Harley asked, biting her lip nervously.

If she'd questioned Mistah J like that, she would've gotten backhanded immediately for her temerity. And probably given a stern talking-to later on, as well, one of those conversations where Joker let his fists do most of the talking. Ivy just smiled wryly at her. "The more money we have, the more secure our future is. And I'm not taking any chances with you."

That went right to Harley's heart, and she smiled back. "Aww, Pammy. You're so sweet."

Pam smiled slightly, and looked at Stephen. "Give me a greenhouse with good soil, and I'll try. Only Harley can be there with me while I'm doing this."

"Whatever you need," Stephen said, and Neal looked like he might literally jump for joy.

…

Adem couldn't get to his quarters fast enough. He dialed the number he had for Talia, and when she answered, the first thing he said was, "I finally met a girl."

The barest pause, and then she sounded completely natural. "Did you? Baba will be proud. What is she like?"

That was a request for him to tell her what he'd learned. Adem didn't dare throw out even a hint of what he'd overheard, but he also had no doubt Talia knew _exactly_ what was in these mountains. "You know my type, little sister."

"Stop calling me little, I'm older than you," Talia scolded. "And I don't want to think about _your type_."

"You are littler though," Adem replied. More filler, and she might have been warning him to stick to their roles; they had said he would be the younger brother. The tone of his calls fit well with sibling teasing, though, and made it easier to mask their true intent.

He was also aware that Talia _really_ would not want Shiva to get her hands on what was in Tibesti. She spoke again, asking, "I take it things aren't quite so lonely, then?"

Which was back to code, and no, he wasn't in Shiva's inner circle. He'd just overheard the information. Adem saw the perfect way to communicate that. "Well, no, not really. I didn't actually _meet_ the girl. I did see her, though. At a distance. She's very pretty though."

Talia mulled that over, and Adem willed her to draw the right conclusion. "Only you would take having _glimpsed_ some girl at a distance as something to tell Baba about," she finally said. "Little brother, you're a scoundrel."

Which he took for praise, that only he could've ferreted out the information she needed without getting too close to Shiva. Adem chuckled. "No, I'm only lucky."

"Well, I'm glad you like your new job anyway," she began, and Adem startled to his feet as his door crashed open. Tareq, two of the other men, and Shiva herself all glared at him from the doorway, weapons drawn.

His stomach plummeted, but he reminded himself savagely to play this to the very hilt. Talia's success, and his own, depended on it. "What's this?" he demanded, drawing himself up.

"Take his phone," Shiva said.

"Who are you calling?" Tareq demanded.

"My sister," Adem said, trying to strike the right note of indignation as one of the other men yanked his phone away.

Shiva took it, and raised the phone to her ear. "Who is this?" she asked silkily, and Adem wondered just how well she knew Talia's voice. His life hung on the answer.

…

Half an hour later Harley was standing in a small, hobby-sized greenhouse. All the big ones on this property had concrete floors, and the plants in them were grown in huge tubs of soil. That didn't work for what Pam was trying. She needed nothing between herself and the Earth – you could hear the capital in her voice – but natural materials. Cotton, wool, and leather in her clothes were okay, the concrete floor wasn't. Luckily Neal had a small greenhouse with a dirt floor that he used for some of his pet projects, and that was where they ended up.

Pam rolled back the floor mats so she could sit on the hard ground, and Harley sat cross-legged in front of her. They had a whole box of Neal's personal potting soil mix, that smelled wonderfully, well, _earthy_. The plastic walls and roof of the place let the sun in but kept the wind out, and it was surprisingly warm for December, but Harley still shivered a little; it was colder at ground level.

Taking a deep breath, Pam looked straight into Harley's eyes. When most people did that, it came off as challenging, threatening, like they were trying to zap her with eye-lasers or something. When Pam did it, Harley found it soothing, like she could just fall into Pam's gaze and live there for a while. And then she asked a sobering question. "Harley … if this starts to go wrong, will you stop me?"

"We don't_ have_ to do it, babe," Harley told her. "Just sit here for half an hour, then tell 'em you tried and collect five mill."

"No," Pam said, and to be honest even as she'd spoken Harley had felt an unwelcome little stab of guilt at the idea of screwing over these two guys. She didn't need any of _that_, if she started feeling guilty for stuff she had a backlog that not even being Jewish and going to Catholic school could prepare her for. Stephen and Neal weren't her friends, this was just business, and she couldn't afford to grow a conscience regarding normal people. They were decent enough guys, but they hired a freaking _supervillain_, it wasn't like they could complain to the Better Business Bureau if Pammy ripped them off.

Pam sighed. "I don't want to start the next chapter of my life by cheating someone who dealt with us fairly. And I want the whole thirteen million. I'm going to need _land_, Harley. Not just acreage. Hectares. Every dollar is another piece of the world I can protect, and that can protect _us_. I'm not going to jail or an asylum ever again. Not after this. I want us to be _free_, somewhere we'll never need to worry about Joker or Batman or any of them. Thirty-three million is going to be a fortune in the kinds of places I have in mind."

"I mean, it's kind of a fortune here," Harley pointed out.

"Live like queens for the rest of our lives and still die rich, kind of fortune," Pam replied, with a little smile. "Harley, you saw what happened in the apartment in Gotham. I probably _can_ do this."

Harley leaned forward and put her hands on Pam's knees; she was leery of touching the bag of antique dried marijuana that Pam was holding. "Yeah, but you gotta go to a scary place to do it, Pammy, and I just want _you_. I'll live on ramen if I hafta. I've done it before."

"I love you. You're the only one who can bring me back from that, Harley. Let me at least try." That was another new thing for Harley, someone asking _her_ permission, and she didn't want to screw it up by saying _no_. So she swallowed her worries, and nodded.

"Will you stop me, if I go too far?" Pam asked again.

"I'll try," Harley said.

That earned her a stern look. "Harley. I know you're armed."

"And I ain't gonna hurt ya, Pam-a-lamb, so get that thought outta your mind," Harley shot back. "If you go full Mother Earth, well, I guess I'm callin' dibs on being the first follower of the new religion."

"Harley," Pam scolded. "I could hurt you."

"I doubt that. As long as you're you, you won't hurt me," Harley said. "And if you're not you anymore, it's not your fault, it's the Green."

"I could've killed Joker, the night he burned the Arboretum," Pam said musingly. "If I'd gone that deep, it wouldn't matter where _I_ was. I would've been in the Green, I could've found him and killed him. But to become that, I would've had to let go of _you_."

"I'm not letting go of you, either," Harley promised. "And you won't let go of me. So let's try this, and if it gets too hairy, I'll try to snap you back. But I'm not gonna hurt you. I mean that."

"At least run for it," Pam cajoled.

"Nah, I can't run. I gotta try to bring you back. Besides, not like running would do much good. I'm in this with you, Pammy. I'll do my best." Harley tried not to betray the queasy feeling in her stomach as she said that. Too often, her best hadn't been good enough.

"I suppose that's the best we can hope for," Pam sighed. She settled herself again, and slid the scraps of stem and leaf out of the bag, into her waiting palm, wincing. "So cold, so thirsty," she murmured, and her eyes began to glow.

She wasn't talking about herself. Or, she _was_, but part of her self was now part of the plant, too. Harley froze, keeping her hands on her lover's knees, hoping the weight of her touch would somehow help Pam stay human despite the song of the Green reaching out to her. Pam took deep breaths, grounding herself. Her eyes were seeing something Harley couldn't even imagine.

It wasn't _magic_, what she did. Harley had seen magic before. There were no spells, no incantations, no artifacts. Pam just slid deeper into being Poison Ivy, and the natural world responded to her. It kind of _was_ like being a goddess, Harley thought.

The shelves in this little greenhouse held orderly rows of seedlings, Neal's pet projects. Funnily enough, most of them weren't marijuana. He was growing a bunch of tiny leafy things that Harley couldn't identify. When Pam breathed out, all the little seedlings rustled, and _grew_. Some of them burst into flower, tiny delicate spiky flowers in incredible jewel tones. But the pitiful sample of Oaxacan Highland Gold lay inert, cupped in Ivy's hands.

"Not enough," Pam murmured.

"Okay, well, we tried, and he can tell we tried," Harley said, watching as the nearest plants dipped and reached their blooms toward Ivy.

"No. I just need something… I had wrath, last time," Pam replied.

"Yeah, 'cause making you angry is a brilliant idea right now," Harley scoffed.

"Say his name," Pam told her. Harley tipped her head sideways, questioning. Roots began to crawl out of all the tidy rows of seed-pots, and Ivy gave her a feral smile. "Say his name, Harleen. That should be enough of rage to aid me."

"Seriously? You get that pissed off just by me saying Joker?" Harley asked. Pam's eyes narrowed, and Harley winced. "Oh. Um … you mean if I say Mistah J…"

Ivy _growled_, and Harley cowered – but she didn't let go. And all those little seedlings grew together in a frantic riot of green. The bare ground under them began to sprout up with grass, seeds that must've lain dormant a long time.

And the pathetic scraps of stems in Ivy's hands began to move. They plumped up, looking greener, and tiny leaves began to sprout. "He burned the Arboretum," Ivy said softly, her eyes no longer remotely human.

"Yeah, he did, but the firefighters put everything out," Harley said quickly, sensing that they were sliding down a very perilous slope. "They even saved that oak tree, the one you said was older than Plymouth Rock. C'mon, Pam, don't lose your grip here."

"He hurt _you_," Ivy said, her voice low and terrible. Tiny roots spilled from her hands, and Harley quickly dragged the pot of soil over. What Pam said next chilled her. "How many broken bones did I set? How many bruises, how much blood, how many scars? And for fear of him you gave your only daughter away…"

"Yeah, but I got away. He's never gonna hurt me again. You took care of that," Harley said quickly. "C'mon, Pam, they're started, snap out of it."

Gently, reverently, Ivy placed the new seedlings into the soil. Their roots squirmed into the rich loam gratefully, and their stems began to reach upward, growing fronds and leaves. With her fingers buried in the dirt, Ivy looked at Harley and said, her voice sounding less human with each word, "And you still went back to him. Every time. I saved you, I cared for you, I loved you, _and you went back to him. You left me for __**him**__._"

Oh, _shit_. This was the thing they never fought about, and Harley _knew_ there had to be a deep well of resentment lurking in Pam. She was a psychiatrist, she knew no one could be as patient and forgiving and kind as Pam tried to be _all_ the time. People were fallible, they were broken and hurt and selfish and mean and petty, but they _tried_ to be better. Pam always tried. She'd never, ever raised her hand or even her voice to Harley. Just because she never acted on it, didn't mean she never _felt_ anger toward Harley.

No, she just bottled it up, trying to be the opposite of Joker, and sinking into the Green had somehow loosened the cap on all those negative feelings.

The delicate little flowers reached down, the grass reached up, and Harley felt them taking hold of her. She could rip free and run for it, there was nothing here strong enough to bind her – well, the marijuana, eventually, there was a reason rope was made from its close relative hemp – but she wasn't going to do that.

Time to be the shrink again, and if she fucked this one up, she wouldn't live to regret it.

"Yeah, I did," Harley admitted, looking straight into those unearthly eyes. "I did all that, and it was wrong of me. I could tell you about gaslighting and abusive relationships and how messed up my head was, but none of that matters. It doesn't change the fact that I hurt you, a lot. I'm sorry. I won't do that again – I'm never going back. It took Bud getting shot for me to admit to myself that Joker _would_ kill me, and worse, he'd kill our daughter, that he didn't really love me and he never could've loved Lucy."

It hurt to admit that, hurt to look inside herself so unflinchingly, but in her melodramatic teenage years Harley had once written a terrible poem that began and ended with the line, 'Pain is the highest power of love'. She'd spent most of her relationship with Joker trying to prove that letting him hurt her meant she loved him. Now she found herself dealing with a different kind of pain. Half of her internship practice had been about guiding people to admit painful truths to themselves, Harley knew how hard that was for other people. Her own willingness to hurt _herself_ to save Pam was more genuine. Letting someone else make her suffer just proved her delusion; forcing herself to do something difficult that was better for _both_ of them proved her love. Even if the words caught in her throat like fragments of razor blades, even if tears stood in her own eyes to say them.

Ivy was silent, staring into her soul, as the plants grew higher. At least she hadn't wrapped one of them around Harley's throat. She took a deep breath, and continued, "I screwed you over. I'm sorry. You didn't deserve it, I never should've treated you like that. But even if you decide to kill me for it, Pam, I'm not gonna fight you. I hurt you enough. Besides, getting taken out by the closest thing on this earth to a literal _goddess_ has got to be a legendary way to go. I'll take that as better than I deserve."

One green hand rose to cup Harley's cheek, and trailed a streak of earth along her pale skin. Her eyes were still strange and otherworldly, and Harley figured this was gonna be the end for her. She'd played her hand as best she could, and if Ivy was too far gone, well, that was it. At least Lucy was taken care of, and the boys would chew their way out of the kennels and out of the house if she wasn't back in a couple hours. Hopefully Neal and Stephen had the sense to run for it.

Part of her was kind of annoyed that she'd done so much and come so far only to be strangled by a rare pot plant in a greenhouse in Colorado, but hell. There were worse ways to go. And at least if she died for _this_ love, she was dying for something real. Not something she only believed in because of Stockholm syndrome and sunk-cost fallacy.

And then the light in Ivy's eyes changed, becoming warmer and more human. Her lips curved in a heartbreaking smile. "Harley, damn you, I told you to stop me. Or run."

"I'm not running from you. And I'm not gonna hurt you either," Harley said.

"You impossible woman," Pam scolded, and leaned forward to kiss her, the plants obligingly shifting out of the way.

Harley smiled, and when she drew back asked, "So, I take it you're not gonna kill me now? Despite the fact I probably deserve it?"

"You _don't_ deserve it," Pam retorted. "Harley, I shouldn't have said those things…"

"It's true, though. I did pretty much treat you like my backup plan. The thing is, we're still here. I've got a chance to prove you mean more than that to me. And now you've got enough money to buy us all the time we need."

Pam gave her a weary smile. "That's true. Neal's going to be ecstatic. Do _not_ let him hug me, please."

"I don't think he's _that_ clueless, but yeah, I'll protect your personal space," Harley chuckled.

Just then, Pam's phone chirped, alerting her to a new email. She pulled it out and read the message, her expression brightening. "Selina's all right," she said, and held the phone out to Harley.

The PM from MeowMix92 simply read, 'Never came near me. All good here, even got Hood to cat-sit. Let me know how you are – no trackable details! New address is gmail, my middle name and the house number from the last address I visited with your gf.' Harley snickered; very few people knew Selina's middle name, and of course no one on Capespotting would know anything about the trip to Brooklyn.

Now _that_ was the perfect topper for the day. Pam hadn't lost herself in the Green, they were millionaires, and their best friend was okay and back in touch. Harley could take all of it as a good omen for her new Joker-free life.

She kissed Pam impulsively, and said, "Let's go collect our cash and get outta here."

"Yes, let's. I already booked another long flight, and then there are plans to be made," Pam told her with an arch of her brow.

"Another long flight? Breaking our trail again, that's smart. Any hint on where we're going?" Harley asked. It wasn't about trust anymore, they'd pretty much proven that, so she didn't feel bad about asking.

"Someplace _warm_," Pam answered with a grin.


	43. Went a Long Way When You Fell

Talia was acutely aware of her danger. She was _far_ too close to the Tibesti compound just now, and Adem had just slipped up, letting this call be intercepted. And Shiva herself had met with Talia often enough to recognize her voice immediately.

So she was forced to dive into the role, and alter her voice just enough that it would sound believable, but wouldn't ring false to Shiva's wary ear. A tall order, certainly, but Talia had been pulling off the improbable and occasionally the impossible since she was old enough to walk. She hunched her shoulders to reduce the resonance, and pitched her voice higher and more nasal than her normal smooth, controlled tone. "Who is _this_? Why are you taking my brother's phone?"

"I'll ask the questions," Shiva said. "Who are you, and what did he tell you?"

"I don't have to tell you anything," Talia snapped back, making it a petulant whine.

"If you want this man to live, you'll answer me," Shiva replied. Cool and calm and collected, as she most often was.

Talia needed to put genuine fear into her voice, and thought of Damian in danger. Her words came out angry as well as afraid, but that was just more verisimilitude. "Don't you dare hurt my brother! He has an important job, and our father will hear about this!"

"_I_ am your brother's employer, and I do not care who your father is," Shiva retorted, impatience and irritation showing, which was just the note Talia wanted to strike. "His life is mine to take. Now answer me, what did he tell you?"

To Talia's own surprise, she bristled at the thought of Shiva killing Adem. Well, he _was_ useful, and replacing him would be a trial. She had to keep her voice high and peevish, when her natural inclination was to growl a threat. "He only said he met a girl. Baba is always after him to get married. But he hadn't even _met_ the girl, he just _saw_ her. Why do you care?"

Shiva huffed in annoyance, and Talia heard her voice more faintly as Shiva held the phone away from her. "You are a fool, and your little sister is a brat," Shiva said.

A tap and scuffle; she'd thrown the phone, and Adem caught it. "She's my older sister," he said, sounding just the right degree of wounded and confused.

"She doesn't sound like the moon and stars herself," Talia muttered sulkily, and heard Adem gasp in realistic horror.

"Sorry about that," he said to Shiva. And then, chidingly, to her, "These are important people, habibti."

Shiva scoffed, audible even without speaker phone, and apparently walked out. A man's voice added, "Be careful who you call, and when."

"I will, Tareq," Adem said obediently.

"Are they gone?" Talia asked, keeping her voice pitched like the fractious sister. There might be a directional microphone aimed at Adem's door, still. Shiva was nothing if not careful.

"Yes. But I should be more careful about calling you." Adem sounded rattled, and Talia couldn't tell if he genuinely was, or if he was putting on a show.

"Yes, you should," she agreed.

"You'd miss me if I got hurt," he said, and that was on two levels. He was saying something plausible for their roles, in case anyone was listening, and also gloating over the fact that she did apparently care if he survived this mission.

"Of course I would. Who else would I send out to get a job and keep us all safe?" Talia replied, reminding him that it was business first between them. Before he could reply, she added, "I'll tell Baba you met a girl, anyway. At least it will stop him asking."

Which was code for the fact that she would be moving into position. He didn't need to know she already was, and had been for some time.

Adem sighed. "Let me know when he starts up with asking about the wedding." _That_ was the expected, coded reply, that he would await her orders.

If at any time in the near future, Talia left him a voicemail or a text saying that their father had asked about the wedding, Adem would know she was in position to strike. The problem was, Talia would rather catch Shiva _inside_ Tibesti. She knew more routes in and out of the place than Shiva and her men did, and meeting her inside would rally the loyalists within the fortified compound. Attacking Shiva in the open would make it too easy for Shiva to call in her own reinforcements.

Talia didn't think Shiva wanted to personally use the secret hidden within the Tibesti compound. She simply wanted control of it. And that, Talia meant to deny her, even if she had to risk her own life to prevent it.

They had codes regarding Shiva's movements, but most of them were on Adem's side, and Talia couldn't directly ask without making the conversation change abruptly. So she simply said, "Be careful of your boss, she sounds like trouble. Let me know if she gives you any more problems. Maybe Baba can find you another job."

Adem gave a shaky laugh. "I don't think she'd like that very much. No, I'm here until this is over. I'll try to call you when I can."

On that note, they said their goodbyes, and Talia dropped the phone with a heavy sigh. Perhaps it was worth it to strike _now_.

No, that was only her impatience speaking. She missed Damian, and wanted to know how matters at Guyot-Perrin were proceeding, and had a hundred other things to do besides nursemaid this situation. Talia had already contacted the leader of the Tibesti compound, and several of his subordinates, making each of them think he was the only one she trusted enough to contact. They had all assured her of their loyalty – not that she trusted any of them entirely. The men who followed Shiva now had made similar assurances.

No, the main purpose of her calls had been to alert the men holding Tibesti that the Demon's eye was upon them. They would not go over to Shiva if they believed a superior force was lurking nearby. Talia did have a strike team on standby – across the border in Chad. They were far enough away that Shiva would not detect them, yet they could be air-dropped within an hour of her call to activate them.

Talia had given orders to each of her contacts in the Tibesti compound to pretend to yield to Shiva, and let her bring her forces inside. Then Talia would spring the trap, and Shiva would find herself outnumbered and fighting on ground of her foe's choosing. It would have to be enough; failure was no option.

…

With the rest of the household busy with various tasks, Selina headed over to Jay's building to reclaim her cats. He _really _must have been feeling the holiday spirit, to send her over there without supervision – or he just _really _wanted the cats out before they destroyed anything else. She borrowed Bruce's van again, and made her way in past Jay's various alarms and trip wires, giving a quick wave to the cameras in case he was looking.

The first thing she noticed, stepping out onto the tenth floor, was that he hadn't been exaggerating when he called her. "Mother of God, Miss Kitty, you really wrecked the place," she murmured.

Miss Kitty was lying across her shoulders, and just flipped the end of her tail twice, not even opening her green-golden eyes.

Selina caught the end of her tail and held it down, gently. "Don't talk back to me. I know, you were worried, but you're not the one who has to pay for all of this. The whole floor's going to have to be sanded and repainted."

Miss Kitty twitched her tail out from under Selina's hand, and rapped her across the knuckles with it. Selina just caught the end of it and shook it for a moment, feeling Miss Kitty flex her paws. "All right, heathen. Go round up the rest."

After yawning and stretching, Miss Kitty leapt down and sauntered off. Selina set about opening up all the carriers and making sure they were clean and ready to be used. Only one or two cats would sleep in them, the rest preferring cat trees or window sills.

Gradually the clowder arrived, meowing and rubbing against Selina's legs. She picked them up and kissed them and petted them, checking coat and condition as she did so. All of the cats seemed fine, bright eyes and glossy fur. Hades was a little on the thin side, but then, he only had about four teeth left. "All right, old man, canned food for you from now on," Selina murmured to him.

Even the ferals let her touch them, though they held themselves stiff as she did so, looking away from her. The fact that these cats would lacerate anyone else who was so presumptuous – and that they came to her, when they hid from most people – was something Selina preferred not to examine. Some things, she didn't want or need to know, even about herself. When she'd woken up from what should have been a fatal fall with only minor injuries, and a black cat sitting on her chest purring loudly, she'd decided that questioning her luck was a bad idea.

A certain feline thread was woven throughout her entire life, though, she couldn't deny that. Selina had been born into a tough life, skimming the edge of poverty. They couldn't afford much, couldn't even afford pets, but Selina had a way with the local alley cats and considered them her own. Her father – the man she _thought_ was her father, anyway – had been a violent drunk, and her mother Maria bore the brunt of it. Until she couldn't take it any more. Selina had been the one to find her in the bathtub, her wrists cut. It was just the two girls and their dad, then. Growing up around the East End, she saw a lot of people who had it worse than her family, but that didn't make being hungry and cold and lonely any easier to take. Her sister Maggie had found strength in faith, and grew up to renounce worldly things, but Selina had a hunger for the good life. After a few drinks, Bryan Kyle tended to say she got that from her mother.

Shortly after Maria's death, Maggie went to live with an aunt on Mom's side. Selina hadn't wanted to leave Gotham, which held all her memories of her mother, and she hadn't wanted to live with her strict, religious aunt either. Maggie thrived on stability. Selina followed her own path, getting in trouble at school for her attitude. A lot of what they tried to make her learn seemed boring and irrelevant; the few teachers who could capture her attention called her a bright, even gifted child. Those who tried to make her memorize things saw only the surly, defiant troublemaker. Only in gymnastics, which she'd loved since she was little, did she really live up to her potential.

Eventually Bryan's liver gave up the fight against his increasing alcoholism, and Selina found _him_, too, dead in his favorite armchair. Helluva childhood, really. She was a young teen then, and she ran away from home. The streets taught her a few sharp lessons about survival, how to be adaptable and rely on herself, and how to take what she needed from people who had more than they deserved. She wasn't _quite_ as quick a learner as she needed to be, though, and wound up getting arrested for stealing food. Seagate Juvenile Home for Girls was her next address.

_That_ place was a hellhole for a teenage girl with a chip on her shoulder and a resentment of authority. Fortunately, Selina's natural gifts – her agility, her determination, and her cunning – served her well, and her spirit was never broken. Once she got hold of the code to the alarm system, she even got to practice some skills that would be useful later in life, running around the rooftops. Stealth became her best friend.

She made one big mistake in Seagate: when she scraped together enough dirt on the Warden's ongoing embezzlement, she _told_ the vicious bitch. That got her stuffed into a sack and thrown into the ocean. Like an unwanted kitten, not that she'd realized it at the time.

She'd survived that, of course, clawing her way out of the bag and returning to settle the score. Selina left Seagate with evidence of the Warden's embezzlement – and some valuables, too. The rest of the girls ran, but even then Selina had no interest in forming or joining a gang. She set up by herself, living in an old warehouse in the East End with a healthy population of feral cats. Her stealth and bravado made becoming a burglar (a _cat_ burglar, even) the obvious choice; that, and she'd seen how well the corrupt Warden lived on stolen funds. If everyone at the top was a thief of one kind or another, she might as well live it to the hilt.

At the same time, with her figure filling out, Selina found other ways of supplementing her income. It had all been just so _easy_. Planning thefts took lots of research, careful timing, plus skill and determination; and sometimes she ended up with little to show for her efforts anyway. Meanwhile any woman who could walk in six-inch heels, wear vinyl, and _not_ burst out laughing at the deepest (usually _weirdest_) fantasies of rich men could make good money, mostly without ever having actual _sex_ as part of the job. The outfits and the toys got a little expensive – hand-braided kangaroo leather whips weren't cheap, and neither were the _good_ corsets – but she could always make her clients buy them for her. A certain type of man would fall all over himself to spend money on her; it was part of their masochistic fantasy, she figured.

There were problems, as there often were among the extra-legal professions. Selina had discovered a hole in her education when she got the hell beaten out of her by a pimp; she could put up a fight, but didn't know how to win one. She'd ended up finding a good teacher in Ted Grant, also known as Wildcat, whose personality left a _lot_ to be desired but whose skills were very useful. Selina had a goal, and it was the same one as always: freedom. True independence, enough money to do whatever she wanted and to never need anyone else again. No one else was reliable.

She had other mentors, a sensei to teach her martial arts, a master thief to hone her education there as well. Selina learned fast, and kept her eyes on the end game. She made a friend in Holly Robinson, as well, someone who needed Selina's protection at first.

Her problems had begun when she got ambitious, and started mixing her two careers. Selina had never _stopped_ lifting whatever she wanted, whether it was a cute scarf in a department store, or expensive watches from a client. And the men she saw tended to tell her all _kinds_ of things, trying to impress her – or they just had the kind of secrets that burned, the longer they kept them.

One fine night, she went after the biggest score of all, and broke one of the biggest rules in town by trying to steal from the mob. _That_ one got her thrown out a window despite all her training and finesse, and on the way down she'd flashed back to Seagate and the Warden. Except she wasn't thrown in the ocean that time, only the cold hard ground of the alley awaiting her thirty stories below.

Selina survived the fall, somehow. She was sore as hell and bleeding from a couple places, but she lived. And when she woke up, she was surrounded by the cats that lived in the alley, with one particular black cat perched on her chest. Miss Kitty's green-gold eyes were inscrutable as always, but she had never left Selina's side since. Things were … different, with Miss Kitty in her life. Even Holly had remarked on it. For a while, Selina had considered the cat her good luck charm, and hadn't looked at it any more closely than that.

Not long after, Selina had seen Batman at work, and decided that it was better to have a costume and an alias. Even her sensei called her Cat, so why not? Catwoman broke into the scene, settled the score with the mob, and with time and still more training she became not just a master thief, but _the_ master thief. One who never took an apprentice; the Cat walked by herself, and all places were alike to her. She traveled all over the world, saw things she never could've imagined when she was young, and lived a luxurious life.

Now, Selina strode as confidently down the hallowed halls of Wayne Manor as she did the worst back streets of the East End. She slipped past even Red Hood's security. She had everything she'd ever wanted as a little girl, all the freedom she could wish for, and a few people worth sharing it with. Plus, of course, her best girl Miss Kitty, and all the feline company she could ever want. No one, not even Batman, could tell her what to do and make it stick. And not even Joker could threaten her successfully. She'd made it by any standard.

In about an hour of such reflections, she had all the cats in carriers, and began taking them down to the van. Since she was doing this alone, she'd brought a handcart to move three or four cages at once, but it was still a lot of work. Pushing Franklin's carrier toward the back of the cargo space, she reflected that she'd become a thief to _avoid_ hard work. Stealing seemed so much easier than breaking her body and will at some dull nine-to-five that'd never let her get ahead anyway. In the end, it turned out becoming a _master_ thief involved some serious sustained effort, but by then Selina had found her calling. At least _that_ sort of work was fun.

Selina drove all the cats home, and set them loose, re-rigging her security to work around the sensors Batman had left in place. She wanted to just remove them, but he'd be hurt … and it could be useful, if Joker got out.

She had to make a few calls. While the tenants were out of her building, she was having some remodeling done, and everything was getting a thorough cleaning and a fresh coat of paint as part of the 'mold remediation' that had been her excuse. Also the damn _load-bearing_ wall Joker had broken down to get in was being repaired. Funnily enough, she didn't need to rob a bank to pay for that. Selina had enough contacts to get good rates on quality work, and she kept her legitimate income separate from her extracurricular money. The money she made on rent just went back to property taxes and improvements on the building, and a big expense like this she supplemented with the dividends from her stock portfolio. That much the mob had taught her, to keep some money perfectly legal. It made things easier with the IRS.

It was simple, with that project underway, to have the painters go over to Jay's building too and fix the tenth floor. She sent Jay a text to let him know when they'd be there so he didn't shoot anyone as a trespasser.

Selina sat down at the bar in her kitchen, and watched the cats roaming around her apartment. Miss Kitty leapt up to the counter in front of her and sat down, her tail curled around her ankles. She looked like an Egyptian statue, doing that. "Hey, girl," Selina said. "I take it we're safe here for now? And Harley and Pam are safe enough, wherever they happened to land?"

Miss Kitty only closed her eyes in a slow, deliberate blink. Selina sighed. "What about Joker? He'll get out again, we both know that. Jay and Kala have it in for him. Are you so unconcerned because the next time he gets loose, the two of them put him down?"

A sudden itch disturbed Miss Kitty, and she began to nibble furiously at her front paw. Selina chuckled. "Yeah, I know better. You're not a Magic 8-Ball. But I _do_ listen."

The cat sat up, shaking herself to get her fur in order, and strode forward to bump her forehead against Selina's. They just leaned into each other for a moment, both of them purring.

…

"Well, that was awkward," Jay muttered as he and Kala headed up the stairs. He was still kind of surprised at himself – it had made sense in the moment to just let Selina go to the apartment after the cats, and his only thought had been that she deserved to do all the work of catching and transporting them herself as penance for them shredding the walls. Only now did he realize that a year ago, he wouldn't have let _anyone _have access to that building without him there.

Having a Super for backup was making him too soft, maybe. It was too easy to know that Kala could hear what was going on in the building if she wanted, and she could get him there in a moment if they needed to. Or maybe it was just fatalism – he already knew Selina could get in if she really wanted to steal something of his. She'd done it before.

The remark prompted a long, slow exhale from his side. "That's one way to put it, although it wasn't as awkward as it could have been," Kala replied with feeling, eyes flicking to the ceiling in annoyance, and he had to chuckle at that. Oh yeah, they'd come a long way since that last debrief. Giving him a quick sour look, clearly guessing at his line of thought, she continued as she ran restless hands through her hair, "Shut it, Big Bad. I meant what I said down there and we're not arguing over it. None of you are changing my mind. So what's on the agenda for the day? Take over the world?"

"Nah, that's Friday," Jay teased. "Not sure, honestly. Nothing solid on the agenda so far. Eat a bunch of leftovers, go over the data on one of the five or six cases we've got open. As soon as the sun goes down, go out and patrol. Things are gonna be uneasy with Joker locked up again."

"Sounds delightful, as always," Kala said, her voice droll but not without humor. "You know me, I love checking-up on a few of our nearest and dearest. 'Tis the season for those kinds of cozy gatherings, right?"

Jay grinned at her sense of humor, a little dark and a lot quirky. "Yeah, you know how much I like to get my fist all cozy with these guy's faces. But that's Gotham for you. There's a rumor Sionis is about to finally make bail, and Joker was taking shots at Two-Face right before he got locked up, so Dent will probably want to kick him while he's down. Not to mention the usual rounds of bullshit," Jay replied.

His girl had paused a moment, one dark brow ticked up, looking at him with that thoughtful expression of hers. "You sound almost happy about it," Kala pointed out.

"Well, at least we get a reprieve from shit blowing up. And Harley's gone, so I don't have to worry about finding pieces of her nailed up around town." He paused, thought about it, and then grinned. "Also, it's been a couple days since I got to see you kick someone's ass. I miss that. Patrol sounds like fun when I get to watch you in action."

He punctuated the statement with an affectionate smack on the butt, and Kala yelped, swatting at his arm, shooting him a mock-threatening look. "Knock it off, you heathen! Figures. Although, for what it's worth, I like watching you work, too. It's a twisted base for a relationship, you know that? But we make it work." Her eyes radiated deviltry when she grinned at him, laughing.

"Look, all this started for real when I busted you in the mouth and you broke my nose. Doesn't get much more twisted than that, but at least we're twisted together," Jay teased, grinning back at her. Kala just rolled her eyes, but a smile lurked at the corners of her mouth. They stepped out from behind one of the swinging bookcases together, and his comm buzzed in his pocket. Jay groaned at the interruption. "What now?" he asked when he took it out, K watching him curiously.

"Turn on the news, channel twelve," Babs said.

"You couldn't have got hold of us when we were all in the Cave five minutes ago?" Jay asked, heading for the nearest TV.

"Sorry, Jay, I don't control when the news networks decide to broadcast a given story," Babs replied. "Although now that I know about it, I'm covering it with every camera I have."

"Wait, you _don't_ control the networks too? That's news to me," Jay said sarcastically, and Kala smacked him lightly for the pun.

One of the parlors on this floor had a nice big TV mounted behind an antique Japanese painted screen. Jay moved it carefully aside, found the remote, and turned the TV on. The flatscreen lit up with images from a street he recognized in the East End. But the scene taking place was nothing like business as usual.

Dozens of women were marching with signs, glaring at the reporters. Jay tried to remember what had happened recently that would cause a protest on his side of town, and also tried to categorize the crowd. The women weren't united by any trait he could see, other than just being women. White, black, Hispanic, Asian, young, old, all of them did have one more thing in common.

They looked _angry_.

"Oh, shit," Kala murmured with a frown forming, her gaze on the screen intent. "You think this has something to do with Joker and Harley? Look, the one banner there – it's just a harlequin pattern. After what he said last night..."

"Fuck me sideways, I hope not," Jay groaned.

In his ear, Babs said, "According to the part of the broadcast we missed, but which I just found, this is in protest over a man named Henry Williams, whose wife died last year. He was found not guilty of murder today. Apparently local sentiment is that he _did_ kill her, and just got away with it."

"That explains some of the signs," Jay said, reading them as best he could with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Babs continued, "From what I'm reading, there just wasn't enough evidence to convict. Her body was found in an advanced state of decomposition, without enough soft tissue remaining to establish cause of death. He claimed she left him, and that's why he didn't report her missing. There _are_ some hospital records of hers that hint at domestic violence, but she never reported it as such. He has priors, including assault, but nothing like this."

"Dammit. No way to tell whether he did it, then, with no evidence and no confession," Kala mused, her frown deepening. She wasn't liking this any better than he was.

Jay raked a hand through his hair, glaring at the screen. "With everything going down lately, I haven't had time to watch out for cases like this. Otherwise we could've gotten Donna to use her lasso and get a confession from the guy."

"We can't use superpowers for everything. The justice system has to work without our intervention, or capes end up becoming the final authority on everything. No one wants that. The whole point of our mission is to hopefully work ourselves out of a job, in the end," Babs reminded them.

"Yeah, you see that happening anytime soon?" Jay scoffed, but shook his head. "I understand, though. We can't do _everything_. It's bad enough trying to hold back the masked psychos. Hauling out a Wonder for something like this? It's major overkill."

"Still, I hate the thought that he got away with it," Kala grumbled.

"So do they. Can't blame them either," Jay said.

Babs spoke up then. "Add this to the growing list of things we need to monitor. With Joker back in Arkham, the situation on the streets is going to change rapidly. Are you two planning any other out-of-town retreats?"

Kala finally looked up from the broadcast, eyes raising to the ceiling again at that. "No, She-Who-Knows-All, and the _last_ one wasn't planned either. And it was only eighteen hours. We'll stay within reach, in case you need us. Just keep us informed."

"You're always within reach, but I appreciate it. Let's hope nothing else ridiculous goes down. There's a New Year's Eve party I'd like to attend," Babs said dryly.

"Oh yeah? Is it all the Birds getting champagne-drunk at the Clock Tower? Are we invited, too? A Robin is a kind of bird, y'know," Jay teased.

"No, there's more room at the Manor for everyone to sleep it off if we do over-indulge," Babs shot back. "I thought we did New Year's over there when you were Robin."

"Maybe we did, but remember Dick wasn't always coming home, and you weren't Oracle yet, and Bruce wouldn't let me drink champagne because I was underage," Jay said with an amused snort. "I missed a lot of stuff, Oracle. And I would've snuck off and stolen scotch anyway. New Year's with a bedtime and no booze is pretty boring."

"Well, it's still boring by your standards," Babs laughed. "All of us don't always end up at the Manor, but this is the first year you're officially back. Sue me if that makes me feel familial."

"Awww, you're killin' me here, Big Sister," Jay said, a little uncomfortable with the attention.

Kala nudged his jaw gently as she leaned toward his comm. "So what _is_ the Wayne Family New Year's Tradition? We usually just watch the fireworks from Mom and Dad's apartment, which has a great view. And, well, Dad and I sneak off to watch them from above for a little while."

Babs answered, "Rooftop fireworks viewing. From the right vantage point, we can see the show over Gotham Harbor – and all the rich neighbors who spent serious money on fireworks, too. Bruce even put in an elevator for me. The rest of you can climb, or Kala, you can hover."

"Oh great, a bunch of acrobatic daredevils getting drunk on the roof together," Jay laughed, but it _did_ sound like fun. "If we can see all that, can anyone else see _us_? 'Cause that could be a problem. No one needs to know the Waynes all clamber around the roof like drunken monkeys."

Kala nudged him again, mock-scowling at his tone, and Jay just nudged her right back. Laughing, Babs replied, "No, the trees are high enough that there's no direct sightline from any of the other properties. Trust me, Bruce got very serious about that when Dick was dating Kori – we don't need people seeing flyers landing at the Roost."

"How very convenient for me," Kala said with another short laugh.

Jay looked at her seriously. "How about it, K? You wanna hang with the family for New Year's? Or were you gonna go back to Metropolis?"

Kala's expression grew irritated for an instant, glaring as she raised her eyebrows at him. Okay, maybe the wording could have been better, he had to admit. "I'm not leaving 'til the night of the 3rd, I told you that. Unless you're being passive-aggressive and _want_ me to go back to Metropolis." There was a chilliness in her gaze then, still deflecting because of Bruce's decision earlier. He should have known better.

"Hell no, I want you right here. I just didn't wanna step on family time if I could help it," Jay said quickly. And then he added with a smirk, "I've still got a backlog I'm working on."

That brought them back to status quo, Kala elbowed him with her eyes widening, and Jay only scoffed. _The __**comm**__ is on_, he saw her mouth with furious disbelief. "Don't talk about your backlog on my line," Babs said, chuckling.

"You can't complain, you recorded the sex tape," he retorted, and Kala groaned aloud, lightly punching his shoulder.

"I didn't _want_ to hear the sex tape in the first place, but since you didn't follow protocol, I might as well have some fun at your expense," Babs replied.

"Well, enjoy that, because I'm gonna go have the most fun I possibly can with my girlfriend, and considering she's a professional singer, you might even hear her all the way downtown," Jay taunted.

That earned him a shove this time as Kala exclaimed his name in horrified tones, and Babs just laughed. "I highly doubt that. Enjoy your day, and we'll see what happens tonight."

With that she signed off, and Kala glowered at him. "What is _wrong_ with you? Not cool, Robin, _God_," she said, shaking her head at him with an annoyed sound.

Jay paused to look at her carefully; she didn't seem genuinely angry, just momentarily put out. "It's troll versus troll, K. I can't let Babs have everything her own way."

"Yeah, but at my expense? Just give her positions next time, make the update on our scorecard complete. Everyone's gonna think that's all we do. I ought to make you sleep alone, just for that. Less to imply that way," Kala said, jutting her chin out.

Jay stepped close, looming over her. He met her gaze with the intensity that always got her attention, and then smiled, slow and wicked. "You sure you wanna do that, Kala? Here I thought you took time off just to spend it with me. It'd be cruel and unusual to leave me all alone."

Kala looked up at him, her hazel eyes dark and knowing, making him flash back to that first night when she settled into his lap in the chair like a queen taking her throne. Not for the first time, he thought to himself that she was _nothing_ like what he expected from a Super. "You know what? You'd deserve it," she murmured, and the words were a dismissal, but the _tone_ was something else entirely. That huskiness in her voice only meant one thing, in his experience.

She was so damn _perfect_. And God did he… Jay cut off his own train of thought before it got to the treacherous word, instead catching Kala's hips and picking her up onto the nearest table so he could kiss her more thoroughly. She laughed then, never hesitating when she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him close.

They kissed, and _kissed_, and he ran his hands though her hair, and her nails raked up his back, and he let himself drown in the taste of her mouth, and he gripped her thigh to adjust her so he could get even closer, and she pulled away to say in a voice hazy with lust, "Keep it up, Big Bad. I've still got a room here, I don't _have_ to sleep with you."

Still teasing, and Jay growled, nipping the pale column of her throat, Kala gasping and moaning softly as he did. "Who said anything about sleeping?" Her legs tightened around his waist, her hands threaded into his hair, and his free hand cupped her rear, ready to just lift her up and shred the pants right off her…

"Hey, did Babs get hold of you … guys …" Tim was speaking as he walked into the room, but one look at them and his voice faltered, his expression turning disgusted. "Oh come _on_, you could at _least_ lock the door. Or go to your own room. _Ugh_."

Jay looked up, at a loss for words, and Kala glanced at Tim just as confused through her tousled waves. Her hair was all mussed from him running his hands through it, and he knew they both looked completely dazed. Then Kala broke into her silvery laugh, and dropped her head against Jay's chest. "Oh _God_. Sorry, Tim," she said, her shoulders shaking, still short of breath.

"Whatever, just don't make Alfred clean up after you," Tim said, and left the room rolling his eyes.

"That guy _really_ needs to get laid," Jay said after a moment. "He's just not right."

That earned a quiet chuckle from Kala, still not having moved. "As much as I hate to think about it, for _so_ many reasons, I'm pretty sure Cassie's taking care of that," Kala managed to say.

"I dunno, he's just so _weird_ about it," Jay replied, then squeezed her thigh. "So, you wanna go look at current cases? In my room, with the door locked?"

Kala leaned back to look up at him at that, biting her lip, laughter in her gaze, and _damn_ she was sexy. "I dunno, I was thinking about maybe sleeping in the library tonight."

That sparked another memory from the summer. "I'll follow you wherever. Still owe you for the damn Cheshire cat top and the Superman pajamas."

She let her teeth drag over that full lower lip, and said, "Well, I don't have the pants with me, but I did bring that shirt. I just haven't had the opportunity to wear the pajamas this trip. You know how it is."

"All my fault, I know," Jay said, and picked her up. Kala laughed, catching herself, and kicked in just a touch of hovering so she was feather-light in his arms. "My room, first, anyway. Somebody'll find us something boring to do if we're not behind a locked door."

"You weren't gonna lock the library door?" Kala asked, all wide-eyed.

"There's a secret entrance from the Cave there, you forget that already? And, all of the past aside, I don't want to kill poor Bruce. Especially not like that," Jay replied.

Kala blinked then, probably running the trip up from the Cave through her mind for a minute before she realized and winced. "Ohhh, I didn't think of that. Yeah, _no no no_. God, yuck, kiss me quick before that thought ruins the mood entirely."

Jay obliged, his hands on the sweet curve of her rear, and Kala was close enough to know _his_ mood was just fine. She smiled against his mouth, that soft warm chuckle there again, and murmured, "_Is_ there a way to make a sexy joke about potential heavy ordnance?"

"At least you know it's bigger than a .22," he laughed, and carried her off to his room.

…

The Iceberg Lounge was fairly quiet. A general murmur of conversation ran about the place, but Oswald Cobblepot preferred a certain subdued ambiance, and so things tended not to get out of hand. There were more boisterous nights, of course – one could not serve large quantities of alcohol to most of the criminals in the city without things getting heated sometimes, despite the air conditioning.

For the most part, they all behaved. Only here could one look over the room, and see Killer Croc devouring an astonishing quantity of raw yellowfin tuna, while two tables away a couple of Falcones negotiated a deal with the Riddler. The 'regular' criminals could mingle more-or-less safely with the masks here, and no one had to hide what they were. That privilege was too valuable to even the most outre members of Gotham's underbelly for them to jeopardize it.

Well, all except Joker. He'd put a bullet hole in the ceiling, once, just to show he could. Oswald had graciously forgiven the 'accident', because trying to exact retribution would be costly. Everyone knew who the Clown Prince of Gotham was.

Although lately, his stock was running low. And that was never more evident than when Harvey Dent strolled across the club to the owner's table. Oswald liked to sit here and watch the place, see the money and information flowing into his coffers, and surely some of the smarter ones suspected most of the tables were bugged. As if he'd risk that, with Oracle lurking somewhere in the city. No, there were no bugs here, just a trick of architecture that channeled sound to this specific seat. The thing was, Oswald never sold the information he acquired from his own club. He profited from it in subtler ways.

When Dent approached, his eyes intent, Oswald stood up with a gracious smile. "Harvey, old friend, is something the matter?"

"Your office," Dent said, his voice gravelly. His eyes were still as keenly piercing as all those ridiculous campaign posters, but now one of them was bloodshot, and his face gave him the appearance of being wild-eyed even when he was calm.

He certainly wasn't calm now. Oswald simply nodded, and headed to his office. With the door closed behind them, he asked, "It seems silly to offer when we just walked away from the bar, but I _do_ keep a bottle of cognac in here for my own purposes. Would you like a drink, Harvey?"

"I'd like a lot of things, but I suppose a drink will do," Dent said gruffly.

And of course the ritual of pouring and passing the glass lent a little civilization to his demeanor. Oswald toasted his health, took his seat, and finally asked, "What brings you here tonight?"

"Rumor has it Black Mask will finally make bail," Harvey said.

"I've heard that," Oswald said. He'd heard Ms. Li talking to Carmine Falcone, actually, promising certain information Sionis had in return for a cash advance. The mob was happy to take the deal; they would rather deal with Sionis than most of the other masks in town. He was their kind of criminal, someone they could understand. People were _still_ talking about the time Joker extorted a ridiculous sum from them, only to set it on fire.

Harvey tilted his head, studying Oswald with both eyes as if there really were two minds behind them. Perhaps there were; he hadn't made a study of psychology, beyond learning how to manipulate people. "You don't have anything more concrete than that?" Harvey asked.

"Unfortunately no," Oswald replied. "I won't be surprised if it's true. Roman pays his lawyers well. He's always been able to get out eventually."

"He's never been nailed at the scene of an organ-theft operation," Harvey scoffed.

"He usually keeps his hands cleaner than that. He thought he could trap the Bats, or more specifically, Red Hood. I'm afraid Roman lets old grudges cloud his business sense," Oswald replied.

Harvey grinned; well, half of his face was always grinning, but the half with skin was also giving an equally macabre smile. "Serves him right. Well, if he does get out, I don't want to keep fooling around with him. I've got bigger problems."

Of course he did. Joker had been moving in on his territory, killing his men, taking over the businesses that paid him protection money. And Joker wasn't like anyone else in town. Many of the big names were reliable, in their own special way. Dent would kill you if the coin came down wrong, Sionis would kill you if you got in his way, Nygma would drive you half insane with his riddles and puzzles until you wanted to kill _yourself_, and Croc would just eat you if you got on his bad side. Joker might just laugh, if you crossed him – or he might slaughter you in some brutal way. The fact that Joker was back in Arkham as of last night didn't change much. None of them believed he'd stay there long.

While he was incarcerated was the best time for Dent to act, however. The _only_ time, really. The question was, just what did Dent think he could do? This was _Joker_, after all. Oswald maintained a careful neutrality with most of the big names; he sure wasn't going to go putting himself on Joker's list of targets.

"How can I help you, Harvey?" Oswald asked.

Dent drank, the muscles on the scarred side of his throat working grotesquely. "I want to know whatever inside angle you've got on this whole mess. With Joker almost dying, escaping the hospital, and then landing back in Arkham again, and Sionis maybe making it back out, it's hard to do business in Gotham. People are always looking over their shoulders. And no one knows what the hell's going on with Harley Quinn, and this whole thing with graffiti in the East End."

"There I can offer some peace of mind," Oswald said. "Harley isn't starting up her own gang. The whispers I'm hearing indicate she's leaving town."

"She burned down Joker's hideout, though," Dent pointed out.

"That was a goodbye gift, apparently. Since she couldn't make it to the hospital in time to finish him off." Oswald sipped his own cognac, waiting. He'd learned from Selina exactly why Harley had snapped and turned on Joker, but he wouldn't spread that around. He'd also been able to guess that the reason Selina wanted her money laundered was so that Pam and Harley could get out of Gotham. The pair of them had been very quiet, except for the burned-out building, and that was unusual with Joker doing his damnedest to provoke Ivy. The arboretum fire had been _very_ obvious.

To Oswald's mind, it had backfired on Joker. Everybody in town knew about Harley and Ivy. Opinions on it ranged from neutral to supportive to an uncomfortable percentage who felt it looked bad on Joker, _his_ girl running around with someone else – a woman, no less, and one whom none of them had ever been able to intimidate. Joker had never let anyone think he cared; Harley was still his, she still came running like a well-trained dog any time he called her, and the majority opinion was that the whole thing looked worse for Ivy. She was the homewrecker in the situation, and she couldn't _keep_ Harley.

Oswald's own opinion was that it was none of his damn business, he wasn't sleeping with any of them. His interest was purely directed at minimizing his risk and increasing his profit. Given that Harley and Joker both acted as agents of chaos, any savvy businessman had to know what they were doing, if only to step clear at the right moment.

With Joker having set fire to the Gotham City Arboretum though, _now_ he was acknowledging Ivy as a rival. A little too late, the rumors said. After Harley had beaten Joker to the brink of death, she'd gone straight to Ivy, and he'd tried to summon Ivy to duke it out. Ivy hadn't even deigned to respond. Joker didn't mind being feared and hated and despised, but he couldn't _bear_ to be ignored.

Ivy not answering the call-out made her either look stronger than Joker, or like a coward for refusing to face him – gossip in the city was divided right down the middle on that one. Instead _Harley_ had responded, fighting fire with fire, and the same night he burned their initials into an upscale private school, she'd burned down the place he was staying. Which significantly raised Harley's stock; if she'd stayed, she could've had a chance at taking over a big slice of the criminal underworld. Assuming she killed her ex, of course. With Joker's head on a spike, and Ivy standing behind her, Harley could crown herself queen.

She'd left, instead. Both of them left, and the traces Oswald had picked up said they boarded an unregistered flight heading west. The plane they'd been on had gone all the way to sunny southern California, and he had people checking there, but LAX was a huge airport and it would've been easy for the two women to disappear into the crowds. SoCal seemed like Ivy's kind of destination, he had money out there for any reports of unusual vegetation-related phenomena, or sightings of either woman, or any unusual rise in crime rates.

Joker could try to spin the story his way, with both of them gone, but no one had forgotten his stay in the hospital. Unless he pulled off something impressive soon, he was losing face. And everyone knew it. It didn't make him any less dangerous or unpredictable – more so, if anything – but the respect he'd grown accustomed to was fading.

Oswald looked at Dent thoughtfully, wondering if he knew all of that already, and if he had the sheer brazenness to try and take advantage. It'd be a surprise; Two-Face was hampered by his sense of justice. He might win all the way to having Joker at gunpoint, and if the coin said he should live, Dent would let him go. Which would only make Joker laugh harder at all of them.

"So you think the girls are gone?" Dent asked.

"I hadn't actually said so, but yes. I think Harley and Ivy have left Gotham," Oswald replied, settling back into the flow of seeking as much information as he could, while giving out as little as possible.

"Figured they were headed out when the Cat came in here to talk to you, all dolled up," Dent said. "Hope you got a good percentage on the money you laundered for her. Or was it a favor for an old friend?"

"People like us can't afford to have friends," Oswald replied, topping up both their glasses. "It's bad for business. I am ashamed the new doorman didn't recognize her. I hate for those of us who've built a reputation in this town to not have it acknowledged here, of all places." And then if Dent was thinking Selina had gotten a discount – which she'd wisely not said, instead complaining about high percentages under her breath as she walked out – he'd think it was Oswald's sense of honor that prompted it. Not an exchange of intel.

"You ever hit that?" Dent said lightly, as if the question didn't matter.

Oswald chuckled, while upbraiding himself for being too obvious in his preferences. He'd always had a fondness for slim, long-legged blondes with that cool, assessing aloofness that Selina had in spades. He suspected the question was less of a typical male locker-room sort of inquiry, and more Dent trying to figure out just how close Oswald was to the notoriously changeable Cat. He answered just as lightly, though with more caution than he would ever let on. "Of course not. I wouldn't let Selina any closer to my valuables than I have to. Besides, her loyalties are too conflicted."

Dent smiled. "Can't blame you there. She's trouble, that one. Let me see…"

He took out the coin then, and Oswald fixed a pleasant waiting expression on his face even as his hand dropped lightly to the gun in a spring-clip under the edge of his desk. He didn't even need to draw it; it was affixed so that pulling the trigger would put a large hole through the middle of whoever was sitting opposite him. If Dent had decided to kill him for some reason only apparent to himself, he'd find that difficult. It could be something else, he used the coin for all major decisions, but caution was never unwarranted in Gotham.

Flipping the coin with practiced ease, Dent caught it and slapped it on the back of his other hand. Raising his arm with a showman's flourish, Lady Liberty's pristine face shone at them both. "Well, well," Dent said. "I suppose I have to ask for your help."

"Of course. How can I be of assistance?" Oswald said.

Dent settled his elbows on the edge of the desk, both of his eyes bright with intelligence and determination. One of them also glowed with madness, but you got used to that in this town after a while. "Joker's day is done. He can't even control Harley, and he _made_ Harley. Black Mask is never going to be what he once was. He can't let go of this ridiculous thing he has with the Bats. D'ya know, when he knew they were coming after the organ-harvesting thing, he left a power drill out to piss off Red Robin? Just wanted to remind him of the sick stuff he did to Spoiler."

"Not a wise move," Oswald agreed. He'd heard the same rumor from some of Black Mask's own men, when they threw in with him. All the other masks had looked askance at Sionis for that one. She was a teenage girl, and not the best of the Bat's fighters. Smacking her around was one thing – even killing her would've been acceptable, she had set herself up to fight them after all. Taking a _drill_ to her? That was dirty. It said more about the person wielding it than the one who got hurt. The drill thing came straight out of the Eastern European organized crime playbook, and several of the gangs had used similar tactics on each other when things got rough, but that was _men_. Not women and kids.

"I would've laid good money on Red Hood killing him, now that he's back in town, but Hood's gone soft. Working with the Bats again, and this new girl too," Dent said, shaking his head sadly.

Hood hadn't seemed soft when he was cracking down on Dent's men for trying to recruit those kids he was protecting, but Oswald didn't mention that. "The new girl could be a problem. Hood might have agreed to stop killing, for the Bat's sake, but he hasn't slacked off. And according to what he told one of the mid-level dealers he busted on Christmas Day, the girl's more dangerous as he is." 'Eggs' Benedict had been complaining about the bust from the moment he landed in jail, and of course the inmates knew that Penguin paid for news. That had gotten a bonus, for being about the Blur; Oswald had extra money set aside for anything he could learn about her.

"Just what we didn't need, a meta on their side," Dent complained. "Still, she's not out every night, is she? Must have something else she has to do. And every meta has a weakness, after all. The point is, someone's got to step up. Scarecrow hasn't got the chops, none of the others are organized enough or want it enough. And we don't want the damn _mob_ taking over. Might as well turn the place into Chicago. This is _Gotham_, the masks run this town."

"You're right, someone has to step up. Am I to assume you're thinking you should take the initiative?" Oswald said carefully.

Dent smiled. "I think _we_ should."


	44. And Even Though She's Dreaming

**Authors' Note:** Hey readers, we hope you're all holding up well in the midst of the madness. We are, as best we can, but ... there wasn't a single review on chapter 43. Just one on chapter 42. We do this for love, and we hold to consistent schedule as much as we can, but please know that we really do love your reviews. Knowing that someone out there connects with our work helps us get through the tough times.

Speaking of the review by a guest on 42 ... you'll see more of Luthor's Project Scion in the next story, _Blood Will Tell_. A lot of things will suddenly make sense once that arc kicks off.

Thank you all for the reads, the favorites, and the reviews. We love you. Stay safe and healthy!

* * *

As always when she set an alarm, the roar of sound startled Kala wide-awake instantly. She rolled over to her side of the bed, reaching under the pillow to quickly shut the blaring thing off before it could wake Jay. He deserved as much rest as he could get – they'd spent most of their free time yesterday in fairly vigorous activity. Patrol last night had been uneventful, but they both saw more harlequin patterns popping up around the East End. And more of Dent's boys on the move. None of those had been _doing_ anything they could be busted for, and it grated on Jay's nerves not to just smack them down on principle. In the end, they'd gone back to his apartment instead of the Manor, mostly because it was closer. And hadn't gone to sleep for quite a while then, either. Jay really was spoiling her.

Thinking that, Kala turned back over to look at him, a smile on her lips … and saw his brow furrowed, his mouth turned down. Her heart seized a bit at that; that didn't bode well for his current dreamscape. With gentle fingers, Kala reached out to smooth away the worry-line on his forehead, whispering softly, "Jay, it's all right, I'm here."

He tensed a little at her touch, his eyes flying open to meet hers, but then he relaxed and smiled at her once he realized where he was. "Hey. Morning."

Seeing that haunted flash in his gaze hurt, and Kala ran her fingertips over his cheek. "Morning. You okay, Jaybird?" Kala asked him with a small smile.

"Yeah. Just … ugh." He sat up and pushed a hand through his disheveled hair.

"More bad dreams?" she asked, looking up at him, knowing that had to be the case by his sleeping expression and wishing it were otherwise.

"Garden-variety crap this time, not my usual run of horrors that'd make Stephen King jealous," Jay explained, looking more awake with each word. "I was trying to find you at the gala but you weren't there. Everyone whose mask I yanked off, looking for you, had no face underneath. Just blank, like mannequins. Next time we go somewhere public, K, I'm following you into the bathroom."

"Yeah, I don't think the rest of the partygoers would like that," she said, chuckling a little. If he was joking lightly about it, it couldn't be that bad, right?

Jay chuckled rustily, and looked at the clock. Kala followed his line of sight, and saw the scotch bottle sitting there. That made her frown; over the months of their relationship, she'd watched with satisfaction as the booze migrated over to Jay's dresser, no longer necessary for him to fall asleep. If he'd woken in the wee hours from a nightmare, though, she couldn't fault him for turning to an old remedy. It just left her a little sad that she wasn't keeping his demons at bay anymore.

In fact, she'd _become_ a nightmare, in dreams where his greatest fear was losing her. And now was probably not the best time to bring it up. She'd keep an eye on it; it might have just been a one-off event. Kala reached up and prompted him to lay back down with her, snuggling back into him when he did. They lay there in silence for a while, Kala's nose buried in his shoulder, silently willing him to let the nightmare go as her fingertips stroked soothingly down his back. Before she could give in and let herself drift back off, she leaned up to nuzzle his ear and whisper, "Are you sure you're okay, Robin?"

"Yeah, K," Jay murmured, distracted, and squinted at the clock. "That says nine. Is it really nine in the morning?"

Raising her head and nuzzling her nose against his, Kala recognized his unwillingness to talk about these kinds of things. It had to be his own initiation, or he'd brush it off. For the moment, she could afford to let it go, but she would need to keep an eye on that, too. "Yes, I set my alarm."

Jay looked at the clock, and then at her, frowning in deep concentration. "Why the fuck are we awake at nine in the morning?"

It was so perfectly a Patented Jason Todd Outraged Reaction that Kala chuckled at that, leaning up to kiss his brow. "_I'm_ awake so I can go get Alfred that order of fish and chips I promised him. If my memory's right, it should be noon there now, should be around half-past two or maybe three by the time I actually get there. You can go back to sleep, unless you want to fly along."

As expected, he demurred; she couldn't say she blamed him. "Too early for transatlantic flights," Jay yawned, but he hugged her close anyway. "Sure you gotta go?"

That made her heart turn over the way it always did to hear it. She might not be the best dream-catcher in the world, but it was no wonder that she'd fight all of his nightmares for this difficult, complicated man. "I owe Alfred," she replied, snuggling into him. "You told me not to welsh on him, remember? Especially since he told me what books to buy and where to find them."

"Mm. Can't disappoint Alfred. You could go later?" Jay's voice took on a hopeful note. He was looking drowsy again, as if he'd drop back off to sleep in minutes.

Dear God, this man. It was a struggle not to give in, wrapped up in his affection and his warmth. But she couldn't this morning. "Not and make it while the shops are open," Kala pointed out, nudging his nose again. "I'll be back soon. You've still got me for a few more days, greedy."

Jay sighed, his arms tightening around her. "Never enough."

"Aww, my evil plan is working: you're actually going miss me when I go back home. Best compliment a girl could ask for."

"Just stay. Gotham's practically home now. I've got space." Jay's eyes were closed, and she had the feeling he never would've said anything so revealing if he'd been fully awake.

_We might talk about that later,_ she thought, wanting to kick herself for entertaining the thought. Part of her really did want to stay, forever and ever, like in a fairy tale. Most of her knew that Jay would break out in hives if he ever realized he'd said that. "I'll be back soon enough," was all she said aloud. "You won't even realize I was gone."

He gave a sleepy mumble to that, and Kala let herself lay curled in his arms a few minutes longer before carefully prying herself loose. Quietly, she showered and dressed, slipping her phone into her jacket pocket. Before making her way to the fire escape, Kala returned to the bed to steal another kiss, gently caressing his cheek and letting herself savor the tenderness of that 'stay' – and not thinking about all the ways it was complicated.

The sun had just begun to rise when she touched down at the Manor, and Kala had gotten a code for the security system this time, so she slipped in as quietly as she could. At this hour, no one was likely to awake; she could get in and check on Alfred's stash of personal comestibles, then head out. She knew the layout of the Manor well, after all these months, and moved around the kitchen like it was her own.

Just as she was hovering to peek into the corner of pantry where Alfred kept his own snacks, a voice from the doorway startled her. "Raiding Alfred's stash? Kala, I'm ashamed of you. Unless you're stealing on Jay's behalf."

She turned to roll her eyes at him, still hovering in mid-air. "I'm not stealing, I'm re-upping. I wanted to see what he's out of before I go fetch more."

Dick raised an eyebrow, looking interested. "You're going to one of the import stores?"

Laughing, Kala told him, "No, I'm going to London. Speaking of which – I owe you a flight. Wanna go to jolly old England with me?" Kala waggled her brows playfully, and added, "I'd say you can't tell my boyfriend, but he knows where I'm headed."

"And he passed up the chance? I'm disappointed in him," Dick teased. "In case it's not obvious, the answer is _yes_."

"I thought so," Kala said with a grin. And then she narrowed her eyes playfully. "Wait a minute, what are you doing up and bright-eyed so early? You're usually early, too, but not before ten. Were you lying in wait to make sure you got that flight?"

"No, I was just after a snack. Alfred made a black forest cake for dessert last night, and there might be a piece left," Dick told her, strolling into the kitchen. And then quickly added, "I'm calling dibs, though, you missed it, fair and square."

Kala sighed. "Okay, fine, I won't steal the cake. Not that I was even looking for it yet. I figured I'd grab breakfast in London."

"I'm afraid it's well past breakfast time across the pond, Miss Kala," Alfred said. She and Dick both jumped a little; he had come in via the other door, and was regarding them both curiously. She hadn't expecting him up this early; everyone was protective about Alfred, and he couldn't run on caffeine and adrenaline and three hours' sleep like the rest of them did so often.

Dropping to the floor, Kala tried not to feel guilty about snooping. "Hey Alfred. I was just about to head out, and thought I'd see if you needed to restock anything. How do you feel about an early lunch?"

The pleasant surprise in his expression was all the incentive she needed. "I take it you're referring to fish and chips? Properly done, that is a meal I'd happily consume at any hour. And as for restocking, I find myself in dire need of biscuits."

"Then it'll be my pleasure to pick some up for you," she replied brightly.

"I get to go with her," Dick said, beaming.

"I'm certain it will be a delightful trip," Alfred said, and Kala smiled. Somehow she doubted Alfred would enjoy such a flight, but he would never diminish Dick's joy in it.

"Do you have an insulated shopping bag I can use?" she asked. "I want to keep it as hot as possible on the trip back. The wind speed is intense."

"Of course," the butler replied, and opened one of the cabinets to reveal neatly organized reusable shopping bags. He handed Kala one made of sturdy canvas and lined with heavy-duty bubble wrap for both insulation and protection of the contents.

"Should I bring anything?" Dick asked.

"A coat, and your passport if we get stopped," Kala said. "Cash, if you want to buy anything. Credit card companies sometimes flag it for fraud if they see a swiped transaction in another country."

"Right, we can always hit an exchange." Dick nodded, and hurried off to grab his coat.

To fill the silence, Kala asked Alfred, "What are you doing awake this early?"

"Oh, I don't sleep as well as I used to," he demurred. "I find an afternoon nap quite refreshing, as well, but rising at this hour allows me to accomplish more."

"Before the heathens who live here get in your way. Got it," Kala said with a grin.

"Ah, but I do love these heathens. Every one of them." Alfred's eyes crinkled with pleasure to say it.

"So do I," Kala replied, shaking her head in mock-despair.

Alfred tipped his head toward her with a sage wink. "One in particular, I suspect. Fear not, Miss Kala, I shan't breathe a word of it."

"Please don't," she said nervously. It was far too perilous to drop the l-bomb now, and Kala just wanted to enjoy her winter break without the drama _that_ would cause. She'd had enough excitement to last until March, at the very least.

Dick came rushing back in, shoving his arms through the sleeves of his coat, clearly thrilled to _finally_ go for a flight. "I can't believe Jay passed this up," he laughed, clapping Alfred on the shoulder affectionately as they headed out to the back yard.

"Jay doesn't like flying that fast, most of the time," Kala explained, waving to Alfred on the way. Outside she hesitated, realizing a logistics problem. "Actually, I'm supposed to bring the food back here fast enough to still be hot, but I don't trust myself to make that trip with a passenger. Do you mind being left on your own in London for like half an hour to an hour while I zip the fish back, and then we can fly home with surprise shopping a little more leisurely?"

Dick paused, regarding her seriously. "Half an hour – you're talking about flying from London to here in possibly _fifteen minutes_? Holy God, Kala, I didn't realize you had _that_ much speed."

"I'm fully sunned-up, and speed was one of my first powers," Kala pointed out. "I did Venice in twenty minutes to get masks for the gala, London should be about the same."

"And why can't I fly along for that?" Dick asked, his eyes sparkling.

"Because the acceleration might literally kill you?" Kala replied with a laugh. "My invulnerability usually protects passengers, but I'm not perfectly invulnerable, and I've never tried taking anyone much faster than about mach 5. I've hit around mach 17 flying solo, and I can't imagine what that would do to a normal human if for some reason my invulnerability didn't cover it. The air resistance at that speed is enough to seriously injure you, I bet."

Dick just blinked. "Mach 17 … that's orders of magnitude faster than any commercial aircraft."

"Mach 5 is enough to get to London in under an hour. That should be impressive enough, even for a hotshot like you." Kala grinned at him.

"I'm sold," Dick replied, not at all deterred. "Let's go."

"You've flown before, right?" Kala asked, knowing the answer was probably 'yes'.

"With Donna and Kori, and once with your dad," Dick told her, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet.

"Okay. I'm gonna take off slowly, so we don't rip off any roof tiles or break any windows. Once we're up, then I'll kick in the speed," Kala told him, holding her hands out.

Dick obviously _had_ flown before, bracing his hands on her shoulders and letting her wrap her arms around him. "Just so you know, I'm not afraid of heights, but sometimes altitude makes me a little loopy."

"Yeah, that's the hypoxia," Kala said absently, letting them drift upward. Dick was paying attention, and glanced down with a sunny grin as his toes left the flagstones.

She could only watch his face with a smile of her own. No one else Kala had flown with reacted like this. True, for most people their first experience flying with her was a rescue from extreme danger, and she tended to use her speed more intensely than her father did. She couldn't blame them for being freaked out … but it was a delightful change of pace to have someone _enjoy_ flying with her for once. It just figured, it'd take someone born into a family of circus acrobats who swung around Gotham these days.

It also just figured, the Wayne brother she'd gotten herself romantically entangled with was less than enthusiastic about flying, while the one she warned herself away from loved it.

Dick took in the view with unadulterated joy, his mouth curving up in an even broader grin. Kala couldn't help a slight chuckle, and he glanced back at her. "No one reacts like this," she told him.

He shrugged, as relaxed standing on a mile of air as he would be in the Manor's kitchen. "What? Do they all freak out about heights?"

"And the lack of safety belts, I guess," Kala replied. "Also the speed, which we haven't gotten to yet."

He smirked at that, his eyes dancing with amusement. "Ever heard of HALO jumps? High altitude, low opening. The point is to maximize the time spent in freefall. I, personally, _love_ it. I might not have a parachute on me right now, but as fast as you are, even if I do manage to lose my grip, you've got plenty of time to catch me."

Kala couldn't help herself. "Dick Grayson, it is _entirely_ too easy to fall in love with you, you know that?"

"Hey now, I'm not stealing my brother's girl," Dick said playfully. "But I do know, trust me. I get way more love and affection than I deserve – or so Babs tells me regularly."

"Babs is biased," Kala chided. She shifted her grip, leveling out, and Dick moved fluidly with her until they were both lined out, headed east. "It really shows, how much flying you've done."

"I'll take that as a compliment. I do prefer the side-by-side thing to being carried bridal-style – but hey, when your girlfriend and your best friend both have super-strength, there's no sense in complaining." Dick shifted his arm to wrap around her waist, keeping the other close at his side for better aerodynamics. Unlike most of her passengers, he looked down intentionally, watching the landscape flow beneath them.

She stifled a laugh at the thought of bridal-carrying Dick around. "I can't see it with Donna, but somehow that doesn't surprise me about Kori. You ready for some speed?"

"Kori does not give a single micro-crap about anyone's perceived gender roles," Dick said affectionately. "And heck yeah, I'm ready for speed. Knock my socks off."

Kala chuckled softly, and turned on the super-speed. Gently at first, the acceleration mild, and then she looked ahead to the open ocean and cranked it up. Inertia pressed on her, but her invulnerability shrugged it off, and in a couple of minutes she'd hit her cruising speed. Dick gave a whoop of amazement as the coastline swept past below them, and Kala let herself bask in the delight of it all.

…

The Atlantic was a blur of blue-green far below, and they were tearing along at several times the speed of sound. Dick knew he should've been scared; the only thing keeping him from hitting that water at enough speed to pancake him was Kala's arm around his shoulders, and his around her waist. She made it seem so effortless and natural, though, that he could treat this as the amazing experience it was.

As fast as they were going, the wind speed should've been whipping at him violently. And it _was_ very much a factor, his eyes tearing up and the sound of it roaring in his ears, but that should've been _way_ more intense. He had to wear goggles on a HALO jump, and even then, the wind wrecked his hair and pressed hard against any exposed skin. This felt no worse than sticking his head out of the open window of a speeding car.

"Why aren't I being plastered by the wind?" Dick called. He probably shouldn't have been able to speak intelligibly, the wind would've snatched the words away or stuffed them back down his throat.

Kala shrugged, and _turned to look at him_. At mach 5 or so. Then again, they were over the ocean, what was she going to hit? An albatross? "Something with our invulnerability field. I don't know how it works, I just know _that_ it works. Elise is still looking into it; if anyone can figure it out, it'll be the family rocket scientist." She had to speak louder than usual, but he could hear her just fine.

So the little bubble of air around them was moving a whole lot slower than the air a slight distance away. Dick stuck his hand in his pocket and tore off a small piece of an old receipt there. Feeling slightly bad about this, but consoling himself that it was biodegradable paper, he held the slip out in his free hand. The wind snatched at it, but again, it was no worse than a very fast car.

He opened his hand, and for a second the piece of paper floated above his fingers, flipping around in an eddy of turbulent air. It rose two inches, three – and then was just _gone_, as the normal laws of physics caught up with it. Dick turned his head to look behind them, and his eyes went wide. Above their path of travel was a long line of fluffy clouds … and Kala's flight had carved a path through them just by the air disturbance she created.

"This is insane!" Dick called, amazed and delighted.

"What?" Kala called back, looking at him quizzically.

"Look at the clouds," he told her, and then added, "Also you just broke like … all of physics, but hey, you're a Super."

She laughed merrily, a silvery sound out here above the vast ocean. "You think _those_ clouds are awesome, watch _this_." Kala angled them upward, and Dick felt them slowing slightly. He turned his attention forward, and saw another huge bank of clouds ahead.

Clouds were always deceptive; they were so large, but with nothing else in the sky for scale, they tended to look lower than they really were. _These_ clouds were approaching at a high rate of speed, and then Dick gasped as they plunged into the leading edge. Suddenly he was enveloped in much colder air, and moisture gathered on his skin.

They were through before he had time to worry about getting rained on, and Kala pulled up to a halt, turning to face the way they'd come. Dick saw a perfect round hole right through the clouds, with the pale blue winter sky visible beyond it. "Nifty, huh?" Kala said brightly.

"You could have a second career as a sky-writer, without the plane," Dick replied, and she laughed again.

In that moment of stillness, Dick looked at her thoughtfully. He _knew_ Kala, of course, he'd seen her as a kid and worked with her over the summer and listened to her songs and been her date to some of the Wayne functions. But this was a whole other kind of amazing, a side of her he'd never really seen before.

And she was _Jay's_ girlfriend. He never would've guessed in a million years that Jay would end up with someone like Kala. She was just such a _light_, wherever she went and whatever she did. Hell, the fact that Jay – who had seemed so focused on Bruce's 'no love only justice' mantra a few years ago – was even using the term 'girlfriend' to describe _anyone_ was a shocker, but that he was dating _Supergirl_? Dick's mind still had trouble with it, even when they were both being adorable every day.

Just six months ago, he'd been worried about Jay beating the crap out of her in training every day. Not to mention, Kala had _despised_ him back then. Now she was punching holes in clouds and laughing joyfully, spending a whole week and a half with them just to get more time with her man. If he had a time machine and could send a message back to himself last summer, he _never_ would've believed the two would end up in a relationship.

The hole they'd punched through the cloud began to close, and Kala leveled off again. Being out here over the ocean was actually pretty relaxing, even if they were flying at a speed that should've made his face flap painfully like a bloodhound sticking its head out of the car window. Dick couldn't see the opposite coast yet, so he was left to ruminate on the situation.

He'd missed a great chance, actually, when Kala said he was easy to love. _Someone_ needed to point out to these crazy kids that they were ridiculously head-over-heels goofy in love with each other. He'd tried to talk to Jay about it, but Jay had clamped up like one of those giant clams in the ocean that divers sometimes got killed by. He had some weird superstition about love.

Kala had no such hang-ups that Dick was aware of, especially not if she'd said it to him. He didn't want to surprise her midair, though. Despite his confidence that she could catch him, he realized he didn't really want to free-fall without a parachute or at least prior arrangements to be caught. He decided to wait until they landed.

Looking back toward the east, Dick saw a dark line on the horizon that rapidly swelled. They were going fast enough that it looked like a bad special effect, almost. His brain couldn't quite keep up with their speed, and even so Kala announced, "I have to slow down a bit, there's a royal air base near the coast and they tend to freak out a bit if they see something coming in this hot."

"Can't imagine why," Dick said flippantly, and Kala laughed.

She flew low, almost skimming the waves, and he figured that was also to keep them off the radar. The sheer _speed_ kept hitting him, especially when they started ducking between ships on the English Channel. "No one ever sees you doing this?" he asked.

"If they do, they think it's their imagination," Kala replied, angling around a huge freight liner. In seconds they'd passed Dover and curved around to look westward into the bay that led up the river Thames to London. "Time for height," Kala said, and they shot up. Dick grabbed her waist more tightly as the land seemed to zoom out.

He wondered about airplanes, and looked around, seeing one coming from France now. Kala had chosen her distance prudently, though; they were lower than the plane, and far enough away that they'd only be a speck in the sky. Besides, if anyone _did_ see them, they'd just chalk it up to imagination. Even in a world where Superman and Wonder Woman and Starfire existed, no one expected to see two people in plainclothes just standing on air a mile over London.

"So people don't really look up here, either, do they?" Dick asked as Kala surveyed the city streets below them.

"Mostly, no. Metropolis is the worst for that, people are looking for Dad. I just go by too fast for them to catch details. Right now I just need an alley or something … _aha_! Got it!" With that she dove, and Dick's stomach tried to climb out of his mouth. For him, that was a thrill – he was used to g-forces and sudden drops and the moments of weightlessness. Most people would be terrified, but Dick loved it.

Seconds later they had landed in an alley in Spitalfields, old brick walls rising on either side of them. Kala made sure Dick was steady, and then stepped away with a grin. "So, are you thinking about booking a regular flight back? Have I scared you off flying with Supers?"

"Never happen," Dick replied, echoing her smile. "Most of that was tame – you don't even feel the speed, until you're over land to see how fast you're going. Someday you'll have to show me your fighter jet impression."

Kala laughed delightedly. "You're the best, Mr. Grayson. Now convince your brother my flying is tame."

"I don't have to convince Jay of anything, where you're concerned," Dick said, looking at her seriously.

Those hazel eyes suddenly looked cornered. "Hold that thought. I need to change my money, find the right shop, and get Alfred's lunch to him, before we start talking about all things Todd."

Dick knew deflection when he heard it, and just played along.

…

Oswald Cobblepot had no interest in becoming a _gang leader_. It didn't suit his image of himself. Businessman, entrepreneur, information broker, that was far more his style. But saying _no_ to Two-Face's pitch would've ended disastrously.

So, they arrived at a compromise, or what Dent thought was a compromise. Oswald supplied information and some liquid capital, Dent did the legwork and took the credit. It had been a long, thoughtful conversation, but a couple of Dent's points had piqued Oswald's curiosity.

He did some checking, first. Into Amazonian weaknesses (too few), flight records (too many), and a few other things. None of it looked like good news.

Oswald mulled over the situation while going over the Iceberg's books, both the _real_ books and the ones he maintained for the IRS. His personal assistant of the week – once you got to a certain level of expense in escorts, they billed their hours as 'personal assistants', and he was fine with that, everyone had to make a living somehow – massaged his shoulders while he worked. It would've been very foolish to let her _read_ over his shoulder, but Oswald had taken care of that years ago, by purchasing a privacy filter for his computer screen that could only be read through a special pair of glasses, which he was now wearing.

"Mandy," he asked musingly – always get their name right, always tip well, he made a point of being a good customer since he expected service equal to his standards – "where do you see yourself in five years?"

She paused for a second, and he realized it was probably an odd question for a client to ask. "I'll have graduated by then," Mandy replied.

"Oh really? What're you studying, Mandy?" It never hurt to show a little personal interest, either. Just not too much.

"Dermatology. It's a growing field," she replied.

He nodded thoughtfully. "Very wise. I like to see people with a plan for their lives."

That was what bothered him about the situation in Gotham right now. Everyone was looking only at what was right in front of them. Joker's reputation had suffered, and he hadn't been able to restore it by killing Harley. Now everyone was scrambling to fill the perceived vacancy. All they cared about was being the King of Crime this week, this year. No one looked _ahead_.

No one had considered what it meant that Batman was allowing a metahuman cape to base herself in his city. There'd been others over the years, passing through, but none who patrolled so regularly. None who seemed to have a reason to _live_ here; she was hooked up with Red Hood, and he was a Gotham native.

Likewise, no one had really contemplated a future where Joker wasn't just temporarily inconvenienced, but _gone_. Or made plans to cement that future in place.

He couldn't blame Two-Face. Harvey _couldn't_ make long-term plans, the coin decided his fate, and Oswald was extremely wary of that. The rest … Sionis had had the necessary vision, to start with, but of late he'd gotten sidetracked scrapping with the Bats and Red Hood. He _really_ had it in for Hood, and that was crippling his effectiveness. Riddler and Scarecrow and Freeze and Clayface and Croc, none of them were big-picture guys either. Scarecrow _always_ shot himself in the foot somehow, he couldn't accept success. Riddler got too deep into his intellectual puzzles, wanting to prove his intelligence more than he wanted to _win_. Freeze had one goal, and if he ever attained it, he'd walk away from everything else. Clayface and Croc had the same problem, the chip on their shoulders was too large to let them move easily among the rest.

Every name on the list of masks had some fatal weakness, some reason they'd never top out even if Joker _did_ take a final bow. (Those who weren't aware of Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn leaving town had placed their bets on one of them punching his clock. Those who _did_ know were looking at Red Hood, or Two-Face, or Black Mask.) Which left the mob, and come _on_. This was _Gotham_, no ordinary gangsters could rule here. If they weren't weird enough to wear a costume, they were second-tier at best.

About the only person with the resources and the dedication and the vision to take over was Red Hood himself, but he seemed to enjoy being on good terms with Batman and the rest of the flock. He was off the list. And Oswald wasn't going to do it. His five year plan didn't have 'become a crime lord' anywhere on the list.

Which left Two-Face and Black Mask to fight for control. Oswald only needed to decide if he intended to back either of them fully. Or … just play them off of each other, remain semi-neutral, adapt to a city in constant flux. Provide the one constant in town, as he had for years now. Knowledge was power, and he knew more than any of the other masks. In five years, no matter where things stood with the rest, he'd still be here, richer and wiser than he was now.

Success was more addictive than any drug. Oswald sighed, closed the books, and took off his glasses. They gave him a slight headache, but it was worth protecting his investment. "Mandy?" he asked.

"Yes?" she replied, leaning against him. She knew her cues well, this one.

"Firstly, when you get that degree and get out of all this, if anyone ever gives you trouble about it, I hope you'll come see me," he told her.

She kissed his temple. "You're sweet. Thank you."

That even sounded genuine. He _was_ getting maudlin these days. At least he had a plan, now, for tomorrow, and the days that followed it. "Secondly, I've had enough bookkeeping for one day. Would you be so kind as to mix me a martini, and take my mind off work for a while?"

"Gladly," she replied with a winsome smile.

…

Kala didn't like leaving Dick after they changed their money and did some shopping, but he could more than handle himself. She ducked into Poppie's, the shop with the best online reviews, and placed her order. It was ready in minutes, double-wrapped in paper, and she quickly tucked it into the insulated bag along with her side items, condiments, and a bottle of stout that had never been sold in the States. With one last check on Dick, who waved her on as he window-shopped, she ducked around a corner and took off.

_Now_ she pushed the very definition of _speed_. The ocean was a flat blur even to her sensitive eyes, and the North American coast quickly grew larger. Kala didn't just punch a hole in the clouds this time; the water below was disturbed in a faint wake, just from the sheer speed she was putting out. Any faster, and she'd set the air in front of her on fire.

She came to a halt over Gotham, checking the skies, and then landed on the patio at the Manor. "One order of fish and chips, coming up," she sang out as she stepped inside.

Alfred looked up from dusting, his expression thoroughly pleased. "Why, thank you very much, Miss Kala. Would you care to join me?"

"I wish I could, but … I kinda left Dick in London, so…" Kala grinned and took out the beer, blowing a burst of frost-breath on it to chill it. She didn't have anywhere near her father's or Jason's power for that, but cooling down a bottle was simple. "This is all for you, Alfred, in appreciation of everything you do. We love you – tell me you know that?"

"Then I am most grateful, my dear," Alfred said, accepting the bag and the beer from her. His eyes twinkled merrily as he added, "I am very well aware. No one in this house could function without me. And the love is very much mutual."

"Merry belated Christmas, Alfred," Kala said, and leaned up to kiss his cheek before dashing out again.

She paused over Gotham, hearing her phone chirp. Kala looked at it guiltily; Mom's number, of course, sending a quick text. _What's your hurry?_ _House on fire? You scuttled a hawk's nest._

Kala smiled, knowing that little code for what it was. She'd lost track of how many times she'd seen that particular message since she was sixteen. One of Mom's contacts in the military or the JLA had noticed and messaged Lois, obviously. _Was totally innocent and deserved. Wanted to take Alfred his lunch while it was still hot,_ she typed back.

_Should have guessed something like that. Good kid; Alfred deserves it. I'll tell them to stand down, but put the brakes on, okay? _her mother replied.

_Yes, ma'am, but only for you._

Sighing, Kala cut back across the ocean a little more slowly, hoping whoever had questions would believe whatever excuse Lois made. She found Dick easily enough, and dropped into a side-street a little distance away, strolling around the corner to find him.

To Kala's _total_ lack of surprise, she found him talking to a young woman, a pretty brunette bundled up against the chill. "And what brings you to London so soon after Christmas, Mr. Grayson?" she asked.

He smiled charmingly, and Kala stepped up to catch his arm. "Family trip. Speaking of which, Dick, we'd better get a move on before the rest leave us behind."

The young woman looked a little startled, but she smiled anyway, and shook hands with them both before going on their way. "Nice to meet you!" Dick called after her, and Kala just rolled her eyes in amusement.

"I can't leave you alone for half an hour," she laughed. "Trust me, I one-hundred-percent understand the appeal, but good _grief_, Dick, _really_?"

"She walked up to me," he said, slinging an arm around Kala's shoulders fondly.

Elbowing him gently, Kala teased, "At least you didn't have a lollipop this time. I'd be hurt."

Dick tugged her close, laughing, and pointed to a shop further up the street. "There's a candy shop right there. I could always get one."

"_Stop_," she drawled, swatting playfully at his hand. "You're terrible. Don't you know you're not supposed to use the same pick-up line on two women?"

"One thing _no_ woman has ever said about me, was that I'm terrible," Dick teased right back. "But you wouldn't know. Lollipops aside, your heart belongs to Jay, doesn't it?"

And that … came from out of nowhere. Kala just stopped completely, skidding to a halt at the sound of the words. Suddenly there was no air around her; even without Jay here, it was like having a goose run across her grave. Just saying it aloud had power, especially after the last time it was almost spoken. "Richard Grayson," she said in scolding tones.

"Don't try to pull the same deflecting crap he does. I _know_ you don't have some superstitious belief about talking about love causing it to explode," Dick said in much the same tone. "I just want _someone_ to admit what everyone can see. You're head over heels for him, aren't you?"

How could she feel so cornered on a crowded mid-day street? Fighting the irrational urge to flee, Kala furrowed her brows, sighing worriedly. "Dick … come on, don't do that. That's not fair."

"He's being _cute_. Jason Todd, self-made man from the age of thirteen, the Red Hood, is being _cute_. Kala, we can all see it," Dick chided.

Kala fought the urge to scream out of frustration. After this long, how did no one understand Jay and his need for privacy? Sure, she got Dick's pointed curiosity on the topic, but still. "And if you draw too much attention to it, he's gonna freak out," she explained in a patient, careful tone, shrugging her shoulders. All of a sudden the teasing a few minutes ago felt less playful.

"That's why I'm talking to you and not him," was Dick's rejoinder.

"Does it really matter all that much?" she asked, her voice faint.

"I don't know. Does it matter to you?" Dick countered.

She felt torn. It had been so long, and she'd gotten so used to stifling how she really felt. Or at least, not _talking_ about it. Her family knew, there was no chance of hiding it once they found out about Jay, and Babs probably knew because Babs knew everything and she'd seen it from practically the start. The rest, though, they were _his_ family first, and out of respect for him Kala had kept quiet. _Everyone_ knew they were sleeping together, but so far no one had questioned just how serious that was.

Kala knew her own heart. This was as serious as it could get. Much to her own surprise, she'd fallen deeper than she ever expected to. The only other person in her life who meant this much, and who wasn't part of her immediate family, was Sebast. If she were completely honest with herself, that stupid schoolgirl crush on Sebast had only deepened with time and familiarity, into something she tried so hard to keep platonic and still struggled with even now. Jay had hit her right between the eyes, an unexpectedly powerful mix of intrigue, animosity, and attraction that quickly deepened as he let her into his life and his psyche. No one else had ever gotten to her on the level these two had.

Aloud, she said in miserable tones, "How could I _not_? Of course I love him, Dick." The universe seemed to pause when she spoke the words, as if they should've been followed by lightning or earthquake or solar eclipse.

Nothing dramatic happened, to Kala's immense relief. Dick tugged her close against his side. "I'm glad for both of you. You both deserve something this good."

"I really hope that's the case on both sides," she said, her voice faltering.

Dick scoffed. "Yeah, I confronted him first. By the way he was willing to knock my head off my shoulders for saying the l-word, I think he's got it bad, too."

"He's a little superstitious about that," Kala said, and stamped down on the coal of resentment at Dick for pushing him.

"So he told me. I _still_ don't know why," Dick grumbled. "He made some excuse about something that happened during his lost years, but I'm not sure I believe it."

Kala's lip curled at that. _She_ had waited for Jay to tell her all his secrets; she hadn't gone prying after them. No wonder Jay had reacted poorly. And she damn sure wasn't going to betray his trust by spilling any of those hard-won truths to his well-meaning but endlessly curious big brother. "It isn't just one thing, Dick. It's a _lot_ of things, and I only know about half of them. The point is, I've never said it to him. I won't, until he's ready, and the sun might go supernova before _that_ happens. It's enough to know how I feel."

"Who knows? None of us would've believed he'd come back into the fold this year. I would've thought it would take someone's funeral to bring him in. But Babs baited her hook with Alfred's cookies, and _you_ came along to stir up the status quo, and here we are." Dick sounded thoroughly pleased with that result.

"I certainly didn't plan it," Kala said with a self-deprecating laugh. "If I had, I would've come up with a cleaner solution. As it stands … Gotham isn't that far from Metropolis, and I don't have to make excuses to my housemate anymore. Speaking of which, we gotta talk in the new year. We have to make some changes. Who knows, I might just look for a place here." She couldn't help a woeful smile at the thought. It would give her enough space, and the commute was no problem with her flight, but she would miss the house. And Sebast. But things with Sebast couldn't stay the same. It wasn't fair to him, or to Jay.

"I would absolutely _love_ to go house-hunting with you," Dick said, chuckling, and his amusement brightened her mood for the rest of the shopping trip.

…

Alfred sat down to enjoy his meal in what passed for peace in Wayne Manor. No one was bleeding and nothing was on fire, though he was aware of a hundred tasks that ought to be done. The list was ever-growing, no matter how efficiently he crossed things off of it, and he had long since learned that trying to do _everything_ would only result in him expiring of exhaustion.

Man could not live by bread alone, nor could he live solely by the satisfaction of a job well done. It was necessary to take a few moments and refresh one's self. He sat down in the kitchen, opening the insulated bag Miss Kala had brought.

The aroma of battered and fried cod rose to greet his nose, accompanied by piping-hot chips. He laid out the meal, smiling at Kala's attention to detail. She'd brought salt and vinegar and a slice of lemon, plus a side order of mushy peas and assorted pickles. The stout was a nice accompaniment, as well. "Such a thoughtful young lady," Alfred murmured happily, and sat down to eat.

The first bite took him back to his youth, stopping by a chippy for a quick bite, always on his way to or from somewhere. Idleness had never been his habit. Alfred took a small sip of beer, and just savored the heavenly taste of home.

He paused, expecting to hear a demanding "Mrrrrrehhhh!" The past few days, one of Miss Selina's cats had taken to following at his heels. Bolt was a proper-looking young moggy, a boldly-marked tabby with a cobby body and dainty white mittens. She was a charming creature, but she would not allow anyone except Selina to touch her. That didn't stop her from rubbing herself against Alfred's ankles and demanding a tidbit of his meals. This delightfully flaked cod would certainly appeal to a feline palate.

Ah, but the cats were not in residence. Miss Selina had moved them all over to Master Jason's building, and with Joker back in Arkham where he belonged, she had then taken them all back to her apartment, and not yet reappeared here herself. It would certainly be nice not to have to remove adventurous cats from the various decorations, and he'd have to do much less vacuuming of shed hair with forty fewer felines roaming about. But he would miss them nonetheless.

Perhaps someday Miss Selina might be persuaded to stay. She did make herself at home when she was here, and Master Bruce was delighted to have her with him. It would be good to see them settle into a more permanent arrangement. But then, cats could not be compelled.

At least Miss Kala and Master Jason appeared to have their priorities settled. If the two of them believed they were hiding their thoroughly mutual infatuation, Alfred was content to let them think so. He knew otherwise. And he was very glad to see both of them so happy. Master Jason's struggles were well known to him, and while the specifics of Miss Kala's challenges were not, Alfred knew the signs of childhood trauma rather better than he wanted to. She was healing, though, not so fixed in her coping mechanisms as his own charge, and he wagered that she and Master Jason would continue to assist one another.

It was only a shame they had not met when they were younger. Perhaps they could have been good for one another, to see their own struggles reflected, to give each other the support and advice each wished for themselves.

Or perhaps it would only have resulted in great-grandchildren rather younger than he expected.

…

Kala returned to Jay's apartment refreshed, with a bag full of goodies for him in addition to the gifts she'd squirreled away in the pantry at the Manor. She'd barely gotten through the window before Jay asked her, "Where were you?"

He was sitting in the kitchen area, with coffee in front of him, and his hair was an utter wreck. The question wasn't angry; he sounded genuinely bewildered. He must not have been fully awake when she left

Kala went to him with a teasing smile, holding her shopping bag protectively. "I went somewhere to buy a thank-you gift for a man, and some treats for myself. With _another_ man. Sorry I couldn't take you with me, that was two men too many, and you were asleep anyway."

Jay narrowed his eyes, then grinned in amusement. "Huh. You went to get lunch for Alfred, I remember now. Who'd you take with you? Tim?"

"Dick, of course. He's been asking me to fly him somewhere since the summer," Kala replied, sitting down across from him.

He laughed then. "Did the adrenaline junkie get his fix?"

"I did a free-fall with him over the ocean on the way back. Got our shoes wet," Kala replied. "I swear Dick and I are too much alike."

"Yeah, it's a good thing you decided to run off with the bad brother instead," Jay told her, grinning. He reached for her hand and drew her in, leaning his face against her belly with a happy sigh.

"Bad brother, my ass," she told him fondly, setting her shopping bag down to run her fingers through his hair. "Just 'cause you're the scarier of the two doesn't make you _bad_."

"Oh, I'm bad," Jay countered, nuzzling her. One arm slipped around her waist, and his hand splayed against the middle of her back. "I'm such a bad, bad guy." His voice had gotten rougher, lower, and he nipped at her through the shirt, Kala startling a little and then laughing in delightful anticipation. "I'm the _worst_ brother," Jay crooned, and turned mischievous eyes up to hers. "Because I'm _stealing your candy!_"

The whole time, his other hand had crept toward the shopping bag, and Jay snatched it up, leaping from his chair with a booming laugh. "_Jay!_" Kala yelled, chasing him.

It wasn't a big enough apartment for it to be a real chase, even without Kala breaking out super-speed, and she cornered him in the kitchen area. Jay held the bag up high, smirking down at her, and she just floated up to steal it back. "Nefarious use of superpowers. I see how it is," he said in injured tones.

"Quit complaining, half of this is for you anyway," Kala told him, sitting on his counter and reaching into the bag. She handed him a Galaxy Caramel and a Twisted bar, and watched Jay's face light up in pleasant surprise.

"My favorite! How'd you … oh, Dick must've told you. Or Alfred." Jay leaned against the counter, trapping her in place, and started munching away on the caramel bar.

Kala got out another of the same – she'd picked up at least one of everyone else's favorites to try – and matched him. It reminded her a bit of Caramello, but not quite so overpoweringly sweet. "These _are_ good."

"Yeah, like the woman who brought 'em," Jay said, and then gave her a mischievous grin. "Sweet, but not too sweet – that matches too."

"You couldn't stand me if I was _too_ sweet," she scoffed.

"Good thing you've got a little bit of evil in you," he laughed. "And if you want a little more, we've got a few hours before patrol…"

Kala swallowed the bite of her candy and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. "You know I can always make time for a little bit of _your_ kind of evil, Jay."

"You'd better," he said, mock-threatening.

Both of them hesitated to get to the part where they usually swept one another off to bed; having a half-eaten candy bar in one hand was not exactly conducive to seduction. Jay stepped in closer, his free arm around her waist, and for once his wolf-blue eyes were calm and steady. Almost peaceful.

This felt like home, teasing back and forth, scuffling playfully, and all the things they hadn't said yet seemed to hover in the back of Kala's mind. She was so comfortable now, when six months ago she wouldn't have trusted him as far as she could throw him – and she'd very much wanted to throw him into the bay at the time.

A trickle of unease tried to worm its way into her head. Her _actual_ home was about to get uncomfortable; Sebast would be back from Ponce in about a week. She had to fix this whole situation, make it right with Sebast without falling back into old habits, and make sure Jay knew _he_ was her first priority. And at the same time, she couldn't bear to lose the love and understanding she had with Sebast, or their working relationship. She felt an unwelcome kinship with the heroines of young adult novels who always seemed to be torn between feelings for two men. Kala had always scoffed at them, but now she was finding her own heart just as tangled.

There _had_ to be some sensible, adult way of dealing with these emotions. She wasn't going to flip the script of her life – which had always been action/adventure – to a silly romcom.

Jay took the last bite of his candy bar, stole hers out of her hand while she wasn't paying attention, and then leaned in to kiss her with the sweetness of caramel still on his lips. Kala decided, based on the evidence which included Jay's hands on her waist, that she could afford to think about all of that later.


	45. Caught in the Crossfire

**Authors' Note:** Thank you all SO much for the outpouring of reviews last week. It was an awful week, we both really needed it, and we deeply appreciate you taking the time to say a few words. 3 Thank you so, so much.

Adelaide: Alfred really is a godsend, isn't he? And we do have plans for Sebast and Jay to cross paths by the end of the fic. As a matter of fact, we wrote their first face-to-face meeting over a year ago, and just recently worked on a far-future scene that revolves around a conversation between the two men. :)

* * *

Kala and Jay were back at the Manor again for lunch, which was when she found out that Roy and Lian were heading to the airport immediately afterward. "It feels like you just got here," she said, and the complaint was only partly teasing.

Roy grinned at her. "I was here before you, Zippy."

Kala burst out laughing at the nickname, but fell silent abruptly when Roy continued, "And you would've seen us more if you and Jay hadn't been sneaking away constantly."

"Look, I can only do so much togetherness before I start to itch," Jay said. "Next year we'll stick around for all the caroling and crap, okay? Hopefully K won't be gone for a whole freakin' month right beforehand either."

Kala could see him editing each sentence as he said it, to avoid swearing, but she was more stunned by _what_ he was saying. _Next year._ Jay had just casually said he planned on _both_ of them being here next year. Which surely seemed a lot more serious than either of them pretended to be. She'd known how serious _she_ was, but this…

"Yeah, sure, it's all about avoiding your hilariously dysfunctional family," Roy was saying, still needling Jay. "Been there, done that. Heck, I'm doing it this year. I came to see the only sane person who ever ran with the Arrows."

Dinah chuckled warmly. "Aww, thank you, Roy, but I used to date Ollie, so my sanity is definitely in question."

"You broke up with him for a hot redhead, so you passed the next sanity check," Roy pointed out. "Plus it's a win for Team Ginger, and I'm all about that."

"Do _not_ start trying to create an MCR1 mutation superiority club," Babs said, but she was smiling.

"Come on, you know redheads have more fun," Roy joked.

Kala couldn't resist adding, "Can confirm. My stepmother and my little sister are both redheads. Every redhead I know is exemplary in some way."

Roy smirked at that. "See, Babs? Even the Super agrees we're awesome. We need to organize."

"This is why you're going home, before you start any more trouble," Babs told him, mock-scoldingly.

"You're the meanest stepmom, I swear," Roy laughed.

"Nuh-uh," Lian countered, frowning. "Yesterday you said Barb'ra is the smartest and the bestest in the whoooooole Justice League."

"Shh, don't tell her that, she'll get a big head," Roy teased, and Lian stuck her tongue out at him playfully.

"You'd _think_ the bestest in the League would be the Chairwoman, but I guess I can't get loyalty even from the kid I raised," Dinah groused.

"Aww, come on, that's not fair," Roy joked back. "You know I think you're the best. I was just angling for flattery points."

"Flattery doesn't work on me. I already know how good I am," Babs said dryly, and Kala couldn't help a snort of laughter at that one.

The atmosphere around the huge table was relaxed and friendly, something she could really get used to. There was often a little tension at the Manor, or at least there had been over the summer; everyone worrying about Jay training Kala, or about the current cases. In this holiday atmosphere, with more people around, she would've expected things to get more hectic. Oddly, it was calmer.

Roy sat back with a smile as Dinah called Babs arrogant in fond tones. "I'm gonna miss you guys," Roy said affectionately. "I'm gonna miss the food, more."

"For supposedly one of the best archers around, you miss a lot," Jay snarked.

Kala elbowed him in the side, but she smiled despite herself. The endless wisecracking had grown on her after all. Even Roy took it well, laughing, and it was nice to see Jay interacting in a positive manner with someone outside his family.

"If I ever need a stand-up comedian, I'll call you," Roy said to Jay. "Or a babysitter, since you went climbing the walls with my kid and didn't drop her."

"It was a stealth mission to raid the cookies without being forced to sing Christmas carols, and of _course_ I didn't drop her," Jay shot back. "That's mostly Lian, though. Forget babysitting, if _she_ needs an accomplice, I might be down."

Lian grinned, and Roy scoffed in amusement. "Yeah, great, you'll both be running Gotham's criminal underworld. With Kala playing the muscle."

"Hey now, since when I am the muscle?" she laughed.

"Since you can fly at mach 17 and punch through steel," Jay retorted.

"He has a point," Dinah said, cutting through the hilarity. "Seriously, though, we need to wrap this up and roll out if these two are gonna get through airport security."

Roy sighed heavily. "I wish we had an invisible jet or something we could use. Flying the friendly skies is a bit _too_ friendly, at least when they pat you down."

"I'd offer, but House of El Air doesn't do baggage," Kala put in.

"And we don't need to expose Lian's developing brain to Mach 17," Babs added. "Dick was _gushing_ about getting to free-fall from I don't even want to know how high. Let's not create another adrenaline junkie."

Dick, who had let the teasing play out with a fond smile and without getting involved – despite the temptation of Team Ginger – just laughed. "Oh, come on, it'll be fine. We're all adrenaline junkies in our own ways. Kala's just up-front about it."

"You're nuts for free-falling, by the way," Jay told him, and Kala rolled her eyes affectionately at both of them. They ended up being the ones to clear the table, bickering lightly about what constituted a sane amount of adventure.

Kala shook her head, and looked to Roy. "It really was nice to meet you. We'll have to make sure to hang out again sometime."

"I'm sure we'll find time somehow," he said, with an easy smile.

…

Selina woke up from her midday nap disoriented, and thoroughly annoyed about it. She'd had trouble falling asleep alone in her own bed, which was frankly _pathetic_. She actually missed Bruce's arms around her. Worse, when she woke, for a moment she couldn't understand where she was, or why she didn't see the vaulted ceiling of the bedroom in Wayne Manor.

It was far too easy to let herself get attached to those comforts, to fall into the trap of familiarity. A week or two of staying with Bruce, and she could become thoroughly domesticated. Selina shuddered in horror at the thought.

She went about her afternoon routine, which given the hours she kept was similar to most people's mornings: feeding the cats while her coffee brewed, checking the news and eating a light meal. Joker's arrest had been thoroughly covered, of course, and now the news cycle was moving on to wild theories about his hostage. Some claimed he'd killed a woman and the Bats covered it up; others claimed the woman he took hostage was a plant, a hero in disguise; still others claimed she was some famous socialite or other, and a few of them had already written breathless accounts of the event despite not even being at the Mistletoe Masquerade.

Selina scoffed at them all. Only the 'hero in disguise' ones came close to being true, and most of them named Troia as the hero since she'd been spotted in the area recently. Luckily for everyone, no one had recorded Joker snatching up Kala, or Jay carrying her out. Maybe that was Babs' doing, though. Selina had a very healthy respect for her skills.

She'd just about finished her greek yogurt, nudging Batty's nose away from the container repeatedly, when her phone rang. Not a number she recognized, but local. On a whim, she answered it, only saying, "Hello?"

"Good afternoon, Selina," Oswald Cobblepot said. "I heard you were at the charity ball the other night. I hope you've recovered from the stress."

"What stress? He was never anywhere near me. Really, rolling up to the biggest show in town was _not_ a wise move on his part." She spoke lightly, and would never mention that hearing Joker's voice calling her out had spiked real fear down her spine.

She could almost hear Oswald shrug. "Joker's reasons are not for the rest of us to understand. I doubt he got what he wanted out of that, but I also doubt he considers it a complete loss."

"I really don't care how he rates the whole experience. He's locked up in Arkham, and I'm enjoying the sweet life out here among the free and easily-fleeced," Selina drawled.

"Would you care for a drink to celebrate that, then?" Oswald asked.

_That_ was unusual. Last she heard, he didn't summon people to the Iceberg. It did plenty of business as it was. "I'm surprised you'd associate with me, given the climate here in town. Everyone knows I helped the girls get away."

"Selina, the Iceberg is like Switzerland – no matter which side you're on, everyone gets thirsty," Oswald said expansively. "But if you'd rather not make the trip, I can send the limo around."

Okay then. So he wanted to talk to her, specifically, about something that he didn't really want anyone else to overhear. Or there was something else going on – Selina's finely-tuned survival extincts warned her against getting in a car someone sent to her right now. Oswald _probably_ wouldn't sell her out to Joker's gang, or to anyone else who was after her right now. But probably wasn't good enough.

A rattling noise startled her; while her attention was on the call, Batty had shoved her head into the yogurt container and polished it off. When she sat up, it fell off her face, leaving bits of yogurt in her whiskers. Selina sighed, shaking her head, and Miss Kitty leapt up beside Batty.

Casual observers claimed that all black cats looked alike. Selina thought they were blind, or just foolish. Batty was taller at the shoulders than Miss Kitty, longer-legged, longer-tailed, and with a longer wedge-shaped head. Her ears were set further to the sides, and her eyes were more almond-shaped. Miss Kitty, meanwhile, had a rounder face, higher cheekbones, round jewel-like eyes, and was shorter in all her proportions than Batty's half-Siamese lankiness. Selina could tell them apart even if she only saw the tips of their tails; Batty's tail narrowed almost to a point, while Miss Kitty's was rounded.

Miss Kitty looked directly into her eyes, sitting perfectly still, while Batty swiped at her face to get the last traces of yogurt. "Now that would be convenient, wouldn't it?" Selina murmured into the phone. "I go out for a walk, step into a waiting car, and then what? It's not that I don't trust you, Oswald, it's just that there's a lot of ways that could end badly."

"No, it's exactly that you don't trust me, which is rather ironic since I'm the one sticking my neck out to pass information to _you_," Oswald said, a little testily.

"What kind of information?" Selina purred. He usually _bought_ information, and sometimes sold it, but she'd never heard of him giving it away for free.

"The kind that you, as perhaps the only true free agent in town, should know," Oswald replied. "Show up armed, bring a friend if you want, but make sure it's someone you trust. Hell, bring one of those tracking devices Batman likes to stick on everything he cares about. Just don't tell anyone on our side who you're meeting, or why."

This just kept getting weirder, and Selina laughed softly. "You know what they say about cats and curiosity. I'll have that drink, Oswald. Where should I meet the car? And how much of an effort should I make not to be recognized?"

"The north entrance of Robinson Park, in an hour. Don't be obvious. I'll see you then," he said, and Selina agreed before hanging up.

She drummed her fingers on the countertop, looking at Miss Kitty. "I've never really considered Oswald a _threat_. He could be trouble, back in the day, but he hasn't been into the gangland style stuff in years. He likes being a legit businessman, having all the wealthy and powerful in town lining up at his club. It'd be stupid to threaten me – and moronic to invite me to show up armed, or to bring someone, or to bring a tracking device. This is _probably_ above-board."

Miss Kitty blinked, and her tail flicked leisurely from her left side to her right. Selina sighed. "I'll set up some failsafes, and I'm bringing _you_ along this time, just in case. Now I just need to figure out what to wear…"

…

Babs had just seen Dinah, Roy, and Lian off to the airport, and was settling in at the Clock Tower to check the data streams from Libya, when her phone buzzed. She recognized the ring tone and answered it with a tired smile. "Hello, Dick."

"Hey, Babs. I have _news_, the kind I couldn't share at lunch. Mind if I drop in?" His voice was brimming over with excitement and delight.

She chuckled; a visit from Dick was always good for lifting her spirits. "Sure, my girlfriend's away. You might have to jump out a window if she gets back early."

"Scandalous," Dick laughed. "I meant 'drop in' literally, by the way, I'll be on the roof in five minutes."

"I'll unlock the access door," Babs told him.

Sure enough, a few minutes later her cameras picked up Nightwing swinging over to the top of the Clock Tower, barely visible against the darkening sky. Then he was inside, strolling over to her console with that same boyish grin she remembered from the old days. Smiling at him – who could resist? – Babs asked, "So what fresh gossip did you bring me?"

"Oh, I brought you more than gossip," he told her, and held out the paper bag he was carrying.

Babs took it warily, peeked inside, and gasped in surprise. "Mighty Fine Honeycomb bars? Oh, and Beech's Stem Ginger, too? Where did you _find_ these, Dick?"

"Candy shop in London," he gloated. "I didn't just go with Kala for the flight, I also got some shopping done. Picked up some treats for myself, and thought I'd share the love. I didn't want to open them at lunch because I didn't want to have to fight Jay for them."

"Thank you," Babs told him. Alfred had always slipped those particular candies into her stocking when she was younger. He wasn't making as many trips to London, these days, and it was very thoughtful of Dick to pick up some sweets. Especially while enjoying a flight with Kala, something that Babs herself had briefly considered and then _thoroughly_ decided against. Not that she didn't trust Kala; the thrill of soaring through the air was no longer quite so addictive as it had once been.

Dick hopped up on the desk beside the console, grinning. "Quite an interesting day, flying to London in an hour. No line, no airport security, no customs, just in and out. We did some shopping and some talking, and the talking was _very_ interesting."

"Do tell," Babs said, opening a honeycomb bar. They were dipped in salted caramel, an absolutely sinful indulgence.

"Remember you busted me and Jay having a heart to heart? Well, I managed to drag the same confession out of Kala," Dick said, beaming. "So _both_ of them know it, even if they're afraid to say it. They're in capital-l Love."

Babs raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't think Kala had that kind of hang-up."

"She caught it from him. She's convinced he'll flip out if she says it," Dick replied, munching on some stem ginger of his own. "So, what should we do?"

"And what makes you think we should do anything?" Babs asked.

He rolled his eyes extravagantly. "Because these two fools are going to dance around each other for another _year_ without saying anything, I just know it. They let the tension get ridiculous over the summer, and he never made a move until I practically forced him to. If someone doesn't intervene, they'll have two kids and a dog together and still think it's a casual summer fling."

"Two kids and a _dog_?" Babs laughed. "Whoa there, Dick. I don't think Kala will go that far without making a stand. _We_ shouldn't do anything about it. It's their lives."

He made a rude noise. "But it's so _obvious_. They just need a little nudge."

"Seriously, Dick, we are _not_ locking them in a safe together," Babs said, raising an auburn brow.

Dick laughed merrily. "True, she'd rip the safe apart – and I'm sure she knows that's not a batarang in his pocket by now."

"Trust me, she knows. They forgot to sign out of their comms the first time. I'm going to send them my therapy bill," Babs told him, teasing.

"Oh, don't share," Dick groaned. "It's one thing to give them grief, I don't want _proof_."

"Suffice it to say their communication skills are just fine, as long as they're not talking," Babs told him.

Dick scoffed. "Fine. Maybe I'll just start hinting about how to buy jewelry for girls, or something."

Babs thought that wasn't the best idea – Dick wasn't exactly qualified to offer advice on commitment. "Don't push them, Dick. It'll backfire. If Jay thinks he's being manipulated, he'll run for the hills even if you were trying to get him to do something he actually wanted to do. It's his native stubbornness."

"You'd known about stubborn," Dick said, without rancor.

She shrugged. "I have to. Let it be, and let them sort it out. At worst, we'll get a funny story out of it, since everyone _except_ the two of them knew it before they did."

"There is that," Dick said. "And he was just talking today about _next year_. When was the last time he made plans that far out?"

To Babs' knowledge, the last long-term plans Jay had made involved taking over the drug trade in Gotham and either killing Bruce, or forcing Bruce to kill Joker. She didn't mention that, deciding instead to point out a few more positive things. "I think it'll be sooner rather than later. They've never had so much time together, except when they were training. He went to a _log cabin_ with her, Dick. Letting go won't be easy, after this week."

"If he's smart, he'll want to give her a good reason to keep coming back," Dick said with satisfaction.

Babs knew better than to assume than any of them, herself included, would do what was _smart_ when it came to relationships. "If we were smart, we'd use our brainpower to save the world instead of gossiping about other people on the team like a couple of bored housewives," she teased.

"We save the world every night. And half the day, too. We're allowed to use our downtime for fun," Dick retorted. "And harmlessly amusing ourselves with the never-ending soap opera that is relationships among the hero set is fun and educational."

"Can't be educational, none of us have ever learned better by someone else's example," Babs said dryly.

"Present company very much included," Dick taunted. "When are you gonna make an honest woman of Dinah?"

"When are you gonna make an honest woman of anyone?" Babs shot back.

Dick stuck his tongue out at her. "And I thought Jay was the reigning champion of deflection. Fine, fine. We've watched him and Kala grow from hating each other on sight, to respect, to attraction, to friendship, to lovers, to pretty damn romantic. I'll let the next act happen in its own time. Only because I trust your judgment."

"You should, by now. We've known each other long enough for you to know I'm always right." Babs cut him a playful smirk at that, knowing Dick would take it as the lighthearted jest it was.

"Au contraire, I've known you long enough to have been around for the very few times you were wrong," Dick countered. "Such as insulting the guy who brought you British candy. Guess I'll take that bag back now."

"_No_!" Babs exclaimed, laughing, and the two of them fought over the bag until Dick gave in and hugged her. She hugged him back, glad of the camaraderie and the hopeful news he brought.

With a little luck, at least _one_ of the boys in this family could get a happily ever after ending. No one would've guessed it would be _Jay_, but that just went to show how unexpected life could be.

…

As night fell softly over Gotham City, Selina waited a little ways inside Robinson Park, standing in the shadow of an old beech tree. She could still see the street for some distance, and could use the tree for cover if this turned out to be a setup. Most importantly, she'd called Holly and told her to text five minutes after the scheduled meeting. If Selina didn't give her the right coded answer, Holly would forward the information to a number that Oracle maintained as a tipline.

She'd also arranged for Holly to keep sending more texts, at slightly varying intervals, so if this _was_ a setup and Oswald was patient enough to wait until after she'd checked in, there was still backup. Of course, she'd rely on her own claws and quick wits first. The taser in her coat pocket didn't hurt either.

Two minutes early, a huge black SUV limo made the corner and rolled slowly toward the park. A rental, apparently, since it wasn't Oswald's own impeccably restored and maintained custom Rolls Royce Silver Cloud. Selina watched it, her green eyes narrowed, until it stopped just outside the park gates.

One of the tinted rear windows rolled down just a few inches, and a slip of paper poked out. Even at this distance, Selina could see that there was only one thing on the paper: the large bold letters 'SK'. "Great, we're doing spy-versus-spy crap now," she murmured, and stepped out of the shadow of the tree.

She crossed to the limo with long, easy strides despite the heels on her boots, one hand holding her coat closed against the late December wind, the other gripping the taser in her pocket. That limo could hold a _lot_ of people, if it was a trap. She took a deep breath as she closed the distance, and the door swung open just before she could reach it.

The interior was lit in soothing blue-greens, and she only saw one occupant, Oswald himself, sitting to one side so no one in the park could see him through the open door. Selina committed herself, and stepped in, pulling the door shut behind her.

This enormous limo had seating all down one side, and a wider bench in the back. The other side was taken up by a full bar complete with stemware and a couple of ice buckets. Oswald was sitting just behind the driver, and Selina took a seat on the long bench down the side of the vehicle. "Well, here I am," she said, keeping her voice level.

"Can I offer you a drink? They have a decent selection," Oswald said, gesturing to the bar.

"I suppose a glass of white wine will do. I'd ask for a southside, but you didn't bring your bartender. Although you could've, with all this space," she said, making a show of looking around.

"I could've brought the bartender, the doorman, and the band in this monstrosity," Oswald countered. "No one who sees this beast rolling around will guess it's a meeting for two. Or suspect that I'd be caught dead in the gauche thing."

"It _is_ a little much," Selina laughed, eyeing the curvy seat designs and the ceiling lights that shifted to a purplish hue.

"It's a _lot_ much," Oswald said testily. "But I don't want anyone to know I was here, and I image you don't, either."

"You're right about that," Selina said, and took off the glasses and hat she'd worn just in case she were spotted. She'd pinned the brunette wig to the hat, and it felt good to get that off and free her hair. She also opened her coat, letting Miss Kitty leap out of concealment. Oswald chuckled indulgently as the cat strolled down the bench seats, sniffing here and there. Selina folded up the coat so she could easily reach the taser in case something went wrong. After trying on several outfits, Selina had gone with a cocktail dress for this meeting, one cut so that she could fight in it if necessary. And perhaps more importantly, draw attention to the length of her legs.

Much to her surprise, Oswald picked up a cocktail shaker and set about mixing her a southside – with catnip instead of mint, just the way she liked. He had to have brought the catnip himself, storing it in the limo's mini fridge alongside chilled martini glasses. Oswald poured two drinks, and clinked his glass against hers as she took it. "To the future," he said.

"The future," Selina echoed, and waited until he'd taken a drink before she sipped her own. She glanced toward the partition separating them from the driver to cover her hesitation, and realized something that made her chuckle. "This is a little déjà vu, for me. What did you tell the driver? Just circle the city until you say otherwise?"

"Of course," Oswald replied, with a hint of a smile.

"Then you know what he thinks is going on back here. I really hope that barrier is soundproof." Selina leaned back in her seat, and felt her phone go off. "Sorry, just a minute someone's texting me." She took the phone out and sent the expected message, that she was busy in a meeting, but it was the smile emoji that told Holly she was okay.

Oswald gave her a nod, and waited as she typed. He didn't seem offended; then again, they'd both played this game often enough, he would've expected her to have some kind of backup even if he hadn't told her to do so. Once she was finished, he said, "I made very sure to ask if it was soundproof, I checked the back for listening devices, and I tipped in advance for discretion. So he's _certain_ he knows what this trip is about, and that's more misdirection for us if someone does learn I was here."

"Brings back memories," Selina said, trying to sound him out. "I feel like I should ask to see the money first."

"I couldn't afford you anyway. I just loaned Harvey twenty-five million," Oswald replied.

Selina's eyes went wide, and she _almost_ wasted a mouthful of top shelf gin. "Twenty-five mill? Damn, Oswald, you could've loaned _me_ that money if you were feeling so generous! I'd find a use for it somehow."

"You don't need it, you've got Bruce Wayne's black card and your own stock portfolio," he scoffed. "Besides, what's the potential return on my investment?"

"What's Harv's return?" she asked.

He grinned then. "Oh, Harvey thinks he's going to be top dog in Gotham. The Clown Prince of Crime hath fallen at last, the rumors say, and now the petty nobles are fighting for scraps. Harvey thinks he can win out over Black Mask and all the rest."

"And you're helping him?" Selina asked, followed by another thought. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I don't trust Harv to run this town. I don't trust Roman, either, and let's not even talk about the Italians. I'm telling _you_ because you're on his hit list," Oswald said.

Selina arched an eyebrow. "_I'm_ on his hit list? He's that pissed about me beating up his boys? He should've known better than to go after kids Red Hood was protecting."

"Oh, it's nothing you did," Oswald replied. "Listen, Selina, I'm looking at the future of Gotham here. Not just this month, or this year. I'm thinking about five, ten, fifteen years down the road. And I intend to still _be_ here, _not_ in prison, richer than I am now but otherwise essentially the same. I'm not going to try and rule the whole roost, only to get taken down by your boyfriend. I _like_ being an upstanding citizen."

"You also like having everyone, masks and civvies and maybe a cape or two, eating out of your hand," Selina replied.

He shrugged, sipping his drink. "It's good to be respected. I'm sure you understand that, otherwise why be _the_ master thief? You could've just been _a_ thief, and made yourself a nice little fortune, but you had to be the best – and you had to play tag with Batman, too. It's all about respect."

"For me it's mostly about the adrenaline rush," Selina said dryly, but he wasn't entirely wrong. There were dozens of cat burglars in Gotham; there was only one Catwoman.

Oswald inclined his head, ceding the point. "Regardless, I've come to realize that the only way I can stay in the niche I've carved out is if Gotham remains in a certain status quo. And that's right where your Bat and all his little birdies will keep it. As long as they're here, doing what they do, most of us can still do business. The crazy ones will pop up and start trouble, and get beaten back down for it. But even Batman knows he'll never _stop_ crime in Gotham City. Hell, _Superman_ can't stop all the crime in Metropolis, and that guy can hear everything and fly faster than the speed of sound. No way in hell can Batman work himself out of a job. As long as we're smart enough to stay under his radar, there's no reason for people like _us_ to retire, either."

Selina leaned back in her seat. "Are you trying to recruit me, or throw in with me?"

"Neither. 'Free agent' means working solo, I understand that much. But I'd like to cultivate a working relationship that includes the exchange of information relevant to our mutual interests. And I can't really do that if Harvey decides the best way to make his bid for king of Gotham's underworld is to hang your scalp on his belt."

Wincing at that mental image, Selina said, "Wait, why does Harvey think _I'm_ the best trophy kill in town?"

Oswald sighed. "He gave me five names and no explanations, but it seems obvious enough. Number one is Harley, because Joker's baying for her blood and can't _catch_ her. You and Pam helped Harley escape, so either of you is as good as Harley for proving that whoever kills you is doing what Joker can't. And since I happen to know the lovebirds skipped town, that particular target lands on _you_."

"Ugh, if only Harley had hit him like _one more time_," Selina growled. "So who are the other two names?"

Oswald glanced out the window as they slowed, but it was only a stoplight. "Red Hood, for much the same reasons. He's Joker's nemesis. Not only did he _not_ stay dead when Joker killed him, he seems to have recovered enough that he's running with the Bats again. The inside scoop is that Joker was livid about that. Not to mention, Hood could run this town himself if he wanted to. That's even worse, from a certain point of view, when a man has the skills and the drive to take over, and decides it isn't worth his time. Makes everyone fighting for the top spot feel inadequate. Roman wants his head mounted on the wall – literally, his assistant talked to a taxidermist about it – and everyone else just wants to score points."

"Good luck on that. Red Hood could eat Roman _and_ Harv for breakfast, and still have room for Joker," Selina said.

"Yeah, well, there's one more name, and another reason for _you_, too," Oswald told her. "The Blur is on Harvey's hit list. Not because of that with the kids, although she did get his attention for sure. Killing a meta is always a major coup, anyway, and he probably figures taking her out is as good as killing Hood. Just like a certain percentage of the population probably thinks killing _you_ is as close as any of us will ever get to scoring one on Batman."

Selina sucked in a breath on that. Kala … oh, _no_. Kala was too damn new to the hero game to be in the crossfire for all this shit. Not that she wasn't supremely equipped to handle the pressure, but she had enough on her plate. And if they figured out what she was, well, kryptonite wasn't as hard to come by as it had once been.

Not that she wanted him to see how personally she took that. Selina wasn't supposed to know Blur beyond casual acquaintance, and she couldn't reveal that she knew her well enough to like her without also indicating that she knew Kala's identity. She recovered herself enough to say, "Do me a favor, Oswald. If you ever decide to off me, make it because of something _I_ did? And not who I sleep with? A girl could find that insulting."

"I wouldn't make a move against you, Selina," Oswald chuckled. "You keep this city interesting, and you can be useful in your own contrary way."

Selina grinned at him, and crossed her legs subtly. Misdirection first; she could deal with this about Kala later. "Admit it, you just like me too much."

"Doesn't matter how much I like you, I wouldn't risk my neck for that," Oswald replied, but his eyes twinkled.

Smiling, she added a warning. "As for Blur, Amazons are damn hard to kill. And not too shy about killing people who try to take them out. Harv better watch his ass."

"Oh, I know it. The rumors I hear paint a very interesting picture, even with Troia dropping in for a day. The Blur could be a major problem for everyone, if she really cut loose, but for whatever reason she's playing second fiddle to Hood. None of which is my problem." Oswald sipped his drink again, looking thoughtful. "You know, this _is_ pretty good with catnip in it."

"It's in the mint family. Not that much of a stretch," Selina said, still trying to figure out his angle.

He continued, "The only chance Harv has of taking out Blur is blindsiding her. Which is why I'm telling you all of this. Forewarned is forearmed. Harley and Pam are long gone, so as long as you, Hood, and Blur watch your backs, things ought to settle back down without anyone coming out the clear winner."

Selina tipped her head to the side. "Except for you, of course. As long as everyone else is fighting over territory, _you're_ the top dog in town."

He leaned forward a little, fixing her with an intent gaze. "No, your _boyfriend_ is the one running the show. I'm not interested in knocking him out of his roost. Hell, I'll never admit to it if anyone else asks, but Batman and his whole little flock are the only ones keeping Gotham together. This place wouldn't be worth living in without them."

"Wow. I'm impressed. Next thing I know, he'll be measuring you for a Robin suit," Selina said dryly, still trying to decide if he was laying out a plausible line or actually being sincere. Miss Kitty wasn't helping; she'd hopped up into the back window and was watching traffic through the tinted glass.

Oswald barked a laugh. "Hell no. I'm too old for that foolishness. Couldn't have made the tights look good even in my misspent youth. No, Selina, I don't like him _that_ much. He's a necessary evil, from my point of view. A _useful_ adversary."

She decided to carry on as if he were sincere. If all this was a lie, she'd find out eventually – and it wasn't like she was going to commit to any course of action based on one conversation. Her phone chirped again, and Selina replied to Holly again while Oswald waited. Once she hit the 'send' button, she returned her attention to him. "That's how you want the Bat to think of you, too, isn't it? You've got a ten year plan, you're looking for _stability_. And passing information to me, that's your contribution. You _are_ looking to throw in, just unofficially and under the table."

"Our goals aren't entirely dissimilar. I can work around him, or I can work with him. This with Joker … you can't do business in a town like this, Selina. Since Harley beat him half to death, no one knows what Joker's going to do next. He's got no rules, and he's spun up pretty damn high." A pause, and a calculating light came into his eyes. "Hell, it's been longer than that. Since _Red Hood_ came back, Joker's been steadily escalating. More senseless brutality every time you turn around. What was the point of killing Dent's boys like that? What was the point of burning down a school? The library I understood, it was cover, but he could've had the same effect with less drama. Joker just seems to be making bigger gestures for less reason. It's garish."

He didn't know, _couldn't_ know, that Joker's seemingly random targets were calculated to strike at the Bats. His point was still valid, though; Joker _was_ becoming increasingly vicious. The level of violence in his recent attacks was off the charts, even for Gotham.

While she and Oswald verbally fenced, Miss Kitty had wandered around the limo and watched all the traffic she wanted to. Now she stepped daintily over to Oswald's side, and reached her paw into his drink, hooking out the sprig of catnip. Oswald stared at her as she ate it, bold as brass right beside him, and then looked up at Selina with disbelief.

"It's _catnip_, what did you expect?" she said with a little shrug. "Don't let her drink the gin, though. Seriously, Oswald – we all should've expected Joker would do something like this eventually. It's not like _he_ was ever going to retire. Hell, even Croc has mellowed out a little, but five minutes in Joker's company and you know he's never going to stop."

"That's what worries me, Selina. Joker ran this town for years because he was the scariest bastard here. He set the bar higher than anyone else wanted to go, and if anyone even got close, he'd push it up another ten notches just to prove he could. What's Harv going to do to equal that? What could Roman do? Well, we all know Roman's a sadist, but he's not as creative as Joker." Miss Kitty sniffed his glass, and he reached into the fridge to take out another piece of catnip for her, rather than let her fish through his drink.

"So you're trying to balance the beam in your own way. And you're willing to hand out information to keep it level enough for your account books to stay in the black," Selina mused. "That's _it_? There's no hidden agenda? You expect me to believe someone as smart and patient as you _doesn't_ have a plan that ends up winner take all?"

He sighed. "Selina … look, it'd be _nice_ to run Gotham. For a while, anyway. Except everyone who takes a shot at that finds out they've got a tiger by the tail, and in the end it always bites their hand off. _Always_. Even Joker's feeling the pressure now. No, I'll stick with the legit route, and enjoy being the only one here who isn't risking getting killed or arrested or caught in a gang war."

She arched an eyebrow. "The legit route? What, are you running for mayor or something?"

Oswald laughed. "Wouldn't be the strangest thing to ever happen here."

"You'd have to pay off every escort service in Gotham," Selina said, teasing a little to see if his temper would turn on her.

He only smiled indulgently. "I'm a good customer, and I tip well. Plus, they all know who I am. No one would betray me; I'd make life _extremely_ difficult for them. Besides, if most of the wealthy and powerful in this town aren't already in their black books, I'll be _very_ surprised. But no, Selina, public figures are targets. Last thing I need is to get elected to office and have some idiot decide he can only make his mark by assassinating me. The ten year plan requires me to be _alive_ to enjoy it."

"Information czar it is, then," Selina replied. "You know, that's who this conversation reminds me of: Oracle. Who says you have someone on Capespotting's staff, by the way."

"What a godsend that website is," Oswald said with a grin. "All of us are on the site, you know. I think I'll have my guy float the idea of a private forum for verified accounts."

"The only thing more terrifying than you running for mayor would be the kind of flame wars _that_ would start," Selina said dryly. "You think celebrities' Twitter beef is ridiculous, we're _all_ melodramatic here."

She'd been trying to find some hidden motive or secret agenda, and to her surprise none of her feints had landed. He might really be sincere about all this, which was actually kind of frightening. Miss Kitty hadn't acted like there was anything dangerous about this meeting, either, but she would sometimes behave like a completely ordinary cat if Selina tried to rely on her intuition too heavily.

"True. And quite a few of us have no real sense of humor," Oswald said. "It'd only be entertaining for a handful of people. What Red Hood's going to say when he finds out Harv's gunning for him – _that _would be nice to have for posterity. The kid's got quite a mouth on him."

"I'll try to record it for you," Selina said.

"I'd appreciate it. This is why I like you, Selina. You have an eye for the little things that can turn out to mean so much." He polished off his drink, and set the glass aside. "So, you'll tell Hood and Blur to be careful? And watch out for yourself?"

"I'm not worried about Harv. I've handled him before, I can do it again," Selina said. "The same goes for Hood and Blur, but I'll let them know." Kala, especially. She'd run up against most of Gotham's rogues gallery, but none of them had put a price on her head yet. It might be worth Selina's time to tweak Harvey's nose a little, remind him that threatening her was a bad idea. Her fingers always itched to take that coin of his; it could be done, despite the way he touched it so often, as if for reassurance.

No, it was better to handle Harv cautiously for now. One run-in with Hood would remind him why he didn't want to try taking out any vigilantes, much less one who'd been assassin-trained. Or his super-powered sweetheart. Selina decided to tell Jay as soon as she could. She'd rather tell him alone, but getting him apart from Kala was well-nigh impossible lately. She'd have to rely on Jay to restrain any reckless impulse of Kala's to go confront Harvey herself.

Selina considered herself a good judge of character, and she'd been watching Kala more closely than the young Super probably realized. What she saw was a blend of what she knew from Lois and Clark, but it was clear that Kala certainly had her mother's scrappy fighting spirit. As affectionate and kind as her father, but every so often that hellfire spark of her mother's shone in her eyes, and Selina didn't want to fan that into flame and set it loose on Gotham. Oswald was right about balance, and having a meta here – a powerful meta who just so happened to be hooked up with a vigilante with a temper and the will to use it – tilted that scale pretty far in one direction.

"Thank you," Oswald said, resting one elbow on the back of his seat. "In other news, how have you been? I heard there was a mold problem in your building."

"It was a hassle, but I got it taken care of. I'm good, all things considered," Selina said. Just because he was acting like this was a _social_ visit didn't mean she could let down her guard. Underestimating Oswald was a very bad idea. So was admitting to being spooked by Joker's threats.

Miss Kitty calmly walked onto his shoulder and crossed behind his head to get back to Selina's side, Oswald looking at her in amusement. He shook his head then, and checked his watch. "I suppose we ought to head back to the park. It's a believable enough time frame."

"Much as I hate to cut a friendly outing short, I do have to feed the cats," Selina replied jauntily.

Oswald nodded, and sent a text message of his own, presumably to the driver. "If we're going to be sharing information, we ought to sort out a way to get in touch beyond the usual channels."

"We should. If I need to talk, I'll text you and ask if you have my favorite gin in stock. That should be innocuous enough," Selina offered.

"And if I need you, I'll call and say there's a stray kitten hanging around the back door," Oswald said with a slight grin. "Which, there actually was one earlier this week, and I thought of calling you, but my bartender went out there with a can of sardines and caught it. He's been showing pictures to everyone else on staff ever since. Little black and white thing, he's calling it Oreo."

"Aww," Selina said, and then grinned. "Kittens do best in pairs, you know. I've got a handful right now that are ready for adoption – and I can hook your bartender up with free shots and neutering. Have him call me."

"That's right, every shelter and rescue in the greater Gotham area is still swimming in funds thanks to you playing games with the Demon's Daughter," Oswald mused. "Did you ever get her back for the dog training website?"

"I did, but she hasn't found it yet. I'm pretty sure there'll be a strong reaction when she does," Selina laughed.

"Just be careful she doesn't decide to eliminate the competition," he warned.

"Please. I'm not afraid of Talia. It would be beneath her dignity to sully her sword on a thief's neck," Selina scoffed. "Also Batman would _never_ forgive her, and she knows it."

Oswald chuckled at that. "I never thought I'd bet against her, but the more I hear about this, my money's on you coming out on top in the end."

"I always do," Selina replied loftily. "It's part of that whole cats-always-landing-on-their-feet thing. I always get my way, eventually."


	46. I Guess I Never Read the Signs

The night before New Year's Eve, patrol was a little slow. Kala and Jay set out from the bunker and made a leisurely loop around the Bowery, noticing that it was a quiet night for crime. Maybe even the bad guys were resting up, planning to watch the fireworks tomorrow night.

They did see a car rolling slowly through an underpass, and Jay frowned at it. "Look, K … I need you to hang back for a bit. There's a couple kids I wanna check on, and I don't want them freaking out over a meta, okay?"

She tipped her head sideways, a slight furrow forming between her brows. "Sure, Jay, but why? I thought I was pretty good with kids."

"Not these kids," he said with a dry chuckle. "Trust me, I know how wary they are."

It took her a beat to realize what he meant, and Kala nodded slowly. "Right. It's the end of the year, people got bonuses, the johns are cruising. Go do your thing, I'll hang out up high in case you run into trouble."

He looked at her steadily, and they both remembered that first 'baby patrol' he'd taken her on. The first time she'd ever seen a fourteen-year-old boy hooking. Long before she knew that Jay had _been_ one of those kids. No wonder he knew exactly how they'd respond, and no wonder he was so intent about getting them help they could actually use.

She made her way up to a nearby rooftop as Jay strolled toward the underpass. He didn't walk right up into the sheltered nook at the top, just waited, and eventually someone sidled out: a thin teenage girl with track-marks on her arms that Kala could see even at this distance. It made her wince, wanting to sweep the girl up and take her someplace safer than this; she couldn't be more than seventeen.

Jay spoke to the girl for a moment, and from her vantage point Kala noticed how his whole body language changed. Dealing with most people, whether ordinary folks or criminals, he kept his shoulders squared and his muscles tense, projecting an aura of readiness and strength. He could dial that up into 'dangerous' very quickly, able to threaten with little more than a look. With kids, he softened everything, rounding his shoulders, relaxing his posture, making a point of showing his hands open and empty of weapons.

Kala knew him well enough by now to realize that didn't mean he _wasn't_ ready for a fight anyway; Jay could snap from looking relaxed to throwing a punch in an instant. But deliberately making himself look less threatening was enough to reassure the kids that they _talked_ instead of just running.

It was a brief conversation, and Jay ended it by handing over some money wrapped around business cards like he had before. The girl waited while he walked away, and Kala realized with a pang that she'd learned not to turn her back on anyone, not even someone who was helping her.

She followed Jay on these rounds, too; he knew all the likely spots. Kala wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but she heard him murmur reassurance to a couple of the kids. To a boy who shifted nervously when Jay offering the money, he said, "It won't always be like this. I know what it's like, and I turned out okay, right? Life gets better." And to a girl who looked at him with cold, angry eyes, he said, "You don't need a pimp. Especially not one who hits you. If _I_ catch him, he won't be able to bother you for a long time."

Listening to that, Kala felt her heart seized by a kind of awe. Jay had been through _so much_, and he turned it into compassion for others. She never would've believed any of this last year, when all she knew about him was what he'd done to Tim. His kindness to these kids didn't change how utterly terrifying he could be to the bad guys, but it made a more complete picture of who the man really was.

Jay joined her on the rooftop a few moments later, and cocked his head curiously. "Why are you smiling at me like that?" he asked.

"Because you're not just a trigger-happy asshole, after all," she told him.

He scoffed, smiling at the callback. "Whatever, I _want_ other people to think that. Just not you."

Kala stood up to roll her shoulders, listening to the night around them. Except for the occasional early firecrackers, it was quiet, at least with regard to their sort of trouble. "Do you trust me?" she asked softly.

For a moment, Jay just stared. "Thought that was clear by now. What're you thinking, K?"

She took a deep breath. "I want you to do something for me."

"Whatever you need," Jay said, and it took her breath away how readily he agreed.

Kala paused, trying to word the request just right, knowing that he might still rebuff her. "I want you to tell me the story of the little boy who wanted to be an astronaut. The _boy_, Jay."

He studied her expression a moment. "I'm not quite sure what you're asking, K. You already know the story."

Shaking her head, Kala explained, "I don't want to know everyone else's version of the story. I want to know _yours_. Not the articles and stuff everyone gathered about you. Just you, the way you saw it. Do you think you can trust me with that now?"

Jay looked off in the distance for a beat. "Well, we're in the right place for it. About ten blocks from here is the last apartment I lived in with my mom. And if you really wanna laugh at fate, I can show you where I was living on my own. But K … I don't know if I wanna go into all of that tonight. It's not _you_, I just don't wanna stir up shit I have to shove back down when we head to the Manor. They're expecting a nice day of family togetherness followed by a night of fireworks-watching tomorrow, not group therapy hour."

She bit her lip, deciding how to respond, and Jay stepped toward her with a small smile. "Tell you what, let's just do the tour. Lemme show you where I lived, places I know."

"I wanna know," Kala told him, and thought she'd never said anything more real and heartfelt in her entire life. "I want to understand."

"Then come on. Let's do the all-inclusive tour of the Bowery, Jay Todd edition," he said with a little laugh.

Quietly amazed that he'd agreed to it, Kala followed his lead. The first place he took her to was obviously a school, and seeing the sign gave her a flashback to reading his file. The place was entirely empty, over winter break, and looked bleak and forlorn. Snow lay on the roofs, playground equipment, and fences, seeming to glow under the streetlights, and Kala peered intently down at the school, trying to imagine little Jay running around. Perhaps he'd liked the swings as much as she did, when she was small. Beside her, Jay looked down, his eyes looking inward.

"East Gotham Heights Elementary," Jay said at last. "Where Bowery kids start to figure out life. Former workplace of Mrs. Porter, the best damn school librarian in the history of the world, who let me check out anything I wanted and helped me get books from the public library too."

"What did you like to read, back then?" Kala asked softly.

"Everything," Jay laughed. "Boys' adventure stuff, sci-fi, all the nonfiction that even slightly interested me. I went through a dinosaurs phase, too, but mostly I liked books where kids like me went off on adventures far away from here. Whether it was going to other countries, or outer space, or back in time, I just wanted to get away."

They were standing on a roof with a railing, and Jay rested his hands lightly on the cold steel. Kala slipped one hand over his, and looked at him with an understanding eye.

…

When Kala took his hand, Jay came back to himself a little more. He didn't spend a lot of time reminiscing about his childhood, honestly. Only K brought that out in him. Jay chuckled, trying to keep things light, and said, "Man, my ten-year-old self would be so stoked to know I managed to grow up to date a hot alien babe."

Kala laughed, her voice ringing out over the empty school, and she smiled brightly at him. "Fits with your astronaut schtick."

"Yeah, I think that went hand in hand. I wanted to be an astronaut to get away, and also because all the sci-fi books had Earth men meeting hot aliens." He could do this, he could show her what she needed to see, and still keep everything just on surface levels. There was no need to talk about how he did so well in school because he was a bright kid, of course, but also because his mother kept telling him education was the key to being successful in life. The key to getting out of this hellhole, and what a laugh, he knew so much more now and he _chose_ to come back here.

Kala leaned against his shoulder. "What was your favorite subject?"

"English," Jay replied. "I could read really young, and reading gave me something to do when I got ahead of other kids in the class. I used to hate it when we had to read out loud, though. I was okay, there was always that one kid who had to show off, and five or six kids who mumbled through their section. That part was torture."

"I hated it too," Kala told him. "I used to read so far ahead, when it was my turn I'd end up tripping over myself trying to get back to where everyone else was."

He put his arm around her, knowing she wasn't cold even though the temperature was somewhere in the low forties. Jay himself wasn't chilled; his uniform had some insulation, and running rooftops kept him warm. "C'mon, let's hit the next stop on Memory Lane," he murmured.

It wasn't far, just eight blocks, but he remembered how long the walk had seemed when he was a kid. Boiling hot in summer as he trudged home with a heavy backpack full of books, and freezing in winter when he never seemed to have enough layers to keep warm. Now it was nothing to his longer adult stride, and Jay scanned the street below as they moved. Most of the landmarks he remembered were gone or changed beyond recognition; the corner store where he'd bought candy on the way home from school, and later groceries for his mom, had changed hands, with new generic signage instead of the hand-lettered sales sheets in the window. The coin laundry had been updated and painted, too.

He stopped opposite what had been their building, and a sense memory hit him right between the eyes. The lobby always had a hot, furry smell in the summer, like baked dust, and every time he crossed it he'd detoured around the stain Mrs. Gordon's dog had left by the door. Jay remembered getting the mail, Catherine always worried about the bills, and then climbing the stairs to their apartment. He'd surreptitiously checked out the graffiti every time, adding to his vocabulary on occasion.

"Jay?" Kala murmured beside him.

"Fourth floor, in the back," Jay said. "I used to sit on the fire escape and watch for my dad to come home. Smoked my first cigarette on the roof there – I remember thinking it tasted like ass and death. But I thought I looked cool doing it."

She snuggled in close to his side. "No wonder you smoke menthols."

"Shut up, you and your cloves are a Goth stereotype," Jay teased. "And Mom's menthols were basically just _minty_ ass and death."

Kala elbowed him, laughing a little. "_My_ mom smoked the cloves, Jay, that's where I got it from. She started on those to cut down on smoking; they taste good, but they're harsh as hell."

"So we both bummed smokes off our moms. Great, another thing we have in common," Jay said. "Your dad doesn't smoke, mine smoked Camels, and _those_ are horrible."

"Mom used to smoke Marlboro Reds, back in the day," Kala told him. "She quit those when she was pregnant, actually _quit_-quit for a while, but after we were born, she started chipping cloves whenever she got too stressed. Never around us, of course. My aunts give her grief for smoking them, and my dad just checks her lungs obsessively."

Jay realized with a chill that Lois Lane-Kent had her very own x-ray machine living with her. That must've been annoying, but at least Superman's over-protectiveness would catch any serious health problems. Maybe if Catherine had fallen for a hero instead of a zero, she'd still be alive.

But she wouldn't have been his mom. Jay would've ended up with whoever Willis married, because Sheila had no interest in raising him. And it was all useless speculation, anyway. "We lived there a long time," Jay said to Kala. "Even when Mom got sick, we stayed. I don't know how she managed it, I guess there must've been some money from somewhere, but I wasn't paying the rent. Just the groceries and her meds. She sold her jewelry, what little she had, and the TV, and eventually the furniture. I remember one time she put the couch up for sale, and a lady came to buy it, and I guess she saw how poor we were or figured out I was sleeping on that couch, because she gave my mom the money and told her to keep the couch. Mom cried, a lot, and I remember being mad at the lady a little for pitying us and making Mom cry, but we ate that night, so I forgave her pretty quickly."

Kala looked very somber, but she wasn't as upset as he would've expected. She'd led a sheltered life, by his standards, and the fact that people she knew had been in such desperate straits was hard for her to hear. Instead of something profound, though, she asked him, "What was your favorite thing to eat, as a kid?"

Jay chuckled, because he remembered now that she asked. "Same thing we ate that night. There used to be a little place a couple blocks over called Mary Ann's Golden-Fried Chicken. I don't know what the hell they put in the batter, or what kind of oil they fried it in, but I've never had fried chicken that good. Mom sent me out to get a four piece bucket with mashed potatoes and gravy and corn on the cob, and they did biscuits, too. Crappy biscuits, but I would've eaten cardboard soaked in chicken grease and gravy."

Kala nodded. "That sounds like Uncle Gene's Fried Seafood in Metropolis. I swear they put something in the batter to make it addictive. It's fried _hard_ and they put cracklings from the batter in the bottom of your box. Hot fries with malt vinegar, too. Once we were sure I could eat gluten without exploding, I wanted Uncle Gene's at least once a week."

"Sounds pretty tasty," Jay told her, thinking that he'd have to stop by the place if he ever found himself in Metropolis again.

"Everybody had a hidey spot as a kid," Kala said thoughtfully. "At the Riverside house, I liked to go out on the dock, even though I wasn't supposed to be out there alone. In the apartment, I'd curl up in a corner of the lobby. What was yours, Jay?"

He scoffed a little as another memory popped up. "At the top of the stairwell, right under the roof. No one looked there, and the roof door was usually locked. I figured out how to climb up there from the fire escape eventually, but I wasn't supposed to be there, so I'd hide in this thing – it was like a surround for an air conditioning condenser, but it was empty. The lock on it was busted so I'd just climb in."

"Sounds cozy," Kala said. "It'd be a great hiding spot."

"Yeah, but it got real hot in the summer. C'mon, K, I saved the best tour destination for last." Jay turned, sighting on the cathedral, and set out for a longer walk.

"Oh really? What's that?" she asked, following dutifully. She could just fly them anywhere with a whole lot less effort, but K was asking questions and following his lead. And maybe, if he took her on a walking tour of his old neighborhood, Jay might be able to leave a small portion of his baggage and bullshit behind with the year that was passing.

Instead of answering, he picked up the pace to something challenging enough to warm him up. Kala stayed right at his side without busting out powers, leaping fearlessly between buildings. They ended up on a broad roof, and Jay led her over to the edge first, looking down into the alley. "You know where you are, K?" he asked.

She looked up and down the length of the narrow alley, and shook her head. "Not without going up to reorient. I know we're still in the Bowery."

Jay nodded to the street below. "That, K, is the infamous Crime Alley."

Her head jerked up, and she looked at him wide-eyed. "Seriously? The one where…"

"The one where every crook in town knows to behave, one night a year, because Batman always shows up that day," Jay said. "Even better, we're standing on top of the Monarch Theater. Right down there is where it happened."

"Holy shit," Kala whispered, staring over the edge as if there might still be blood on the pavement.

"You ready for the real kicker?" Jay asked. She turned back toward him and nodded, those anime-girl eyes open wide. "I was the only one young enough not to know about the annual visit. I boosted his tires right down there, just two blocks away. And brought them back to the room I was living in. Guess where that was?"

Kala glanced at the building across the street, and Jay tapped his foot on the roof. "Right here, K."

"You were living _in_ the Monarch Theater?" she asked, her voice rising. When he nodded, her jaw literally dropped. "Holy _fuck_, Jay!"

"Yep. Right here. Wanna see?" His pulse beat faster at that casual-sounding question. It was one thing to _tell_ Kala how desperate he'd been. It was another entirely to _show_ her. Kala's worst childhood hardship – well okay, her _worst_ childhood hardship had been getting fucking kidnapped by that asshole Lex Luthor. Her second worst was something like the air conditioning going out. She had never known real hunger, or real cold, and had never been seriously beaten up. She'd never had to make the choice to buy pants with no holes in them from a thrift shop, and then steal food or go dumpster-diving because that was her last five bucks. She'd never even been left completely _alone_. Shit, she'd had _four_ parents and he couldn't fucking keep _one_.

It wasn't that he was ashamed of his past. And he knew damn well that Kala wouldn't belittle him for it. She was much more likely to kick the ass of anyone who dared to do that. No, it was just … Jay knew it would hurt her, to see this place and know he'd lived like this, and she hadn't been able to do anything to fix it. He didn't want to hurt her.

At the same time, he wanted her to know _everything_. Every dark thorny secret in his soul, every pitiful truth, every embarrassing detail. He'd given her most of it in that file, but Kala wanted more. She wanted to know him, to understand him, like no one else in his life ever had. Not just the dry facts, but how he felt about them, what it all meant to him. The weight of her regard wasn't intrusive or painful, though it was intense.

And still Jay couldn't just unburden his whole soul all at once. He was too closed off for that, and Kala knew it. She kept finding chinks in his armor and carefully peeking through; guarding those gaps against other people, too. As long as he could present this as something humorous, Jay could show her a little more without crawling into a bottle tonight.

Kala followed him as he worked his way down to a window on the top floor. Jay reached in through a missing pane and shone his flashlight around, listening. All he heard was the squeaking of rats. Just in case, he called out, "Hello? Anyone living here? We're not here to bother anybody, we're just urb-exers filming a series on old theaters." Kala managed not to snort at that obvious falsehood, and Jay didn't hear any reply.

He also didn't hear any telltale sounds of people scrambling to get out, which he halfway expected. Well, Black Mask had cut a swath through the homeless population this past summer, maybe no one was here. The theater got damn cold in the winter, and with fewer people on the streets, maybe more of them were in warmer spots. Jay worked the catch on the window and opened it, stepping through carefully. "You probably wanna hover, K," he murmured.

The window opened onto a corner where the floor had rotted away and fallen through. Streetlights shining in the huge windows gave a decent amount of light, more than enough for people used to roaming the city after dark. Jay walked lightly across the huge iron girder that supported the roof, remembering. As a kid he'd crossed it with sweaty palms and pounding heart, the first couple times, but as he grew accustomed to the narrow pass and reliant on it to protect him from anyone who might follow him home, he'd eventually strolled across it casually, as if it were a sidewalk. Rather than float, Kala followed in his footsteps, but he could tell by the sound of her boots that she was holding most of her weight with flight and only touching the ground enough to convince any potential onlookers that she was walking normally.

He stopped halfway out, and looked down into the huge theater. The view was much the same as it had been years ago. Most of the original plaster ceiling had fallen down in chunks, and the rigging for lights and catwalks had rusted through and fallen with it. The seats that should've occupied that space had been ripped out or thrown aside. Now the floor below, which would've been the orchestra pit, was a jumble of chunks of plaster, acoustic tiles, twisted metal, busted chairs, and rotten wood, along with some trash left behind by people who'd snuck in. The kinds of people who explored old buildings with cameras were usually more conscientious than that, but the homeless didn't have regular trash pickup, and the kids who tagged the place with amateur graffiti didn't care about cleaning up after themselves. All of the debris made walking across the ground floor treacherous as hell.

He sighed, and looked to his partner, staring with avid eyes at every detail. "Well, K, there it is. The Monarch. Opened in 1915 as a vaudeville house, converted to cinema in 1926, it hung on longer than most of the old movie palaces. What finally did it in was the heavily publicized murder of a well-known local doctor and his wife, which took place on the street behind it, now known as Crime Alley."

"Bruce's parents," Kala murmured softly.

"Yep. It went to hell in a handbasket after it closed. Once a few windows got broken and the weather got in, all the plaster started coming down, and of course people like me broke into it." He felt strange, standing here looking at the place he'd once lived. Even then Jay hadn't really called it _home_. It was just where he stayed. He was proud of it, of having his own space, but that was more about his independence than any kind of attachment.

Kala turned in a slow circle, looking at the main theater, and murmured, "This place must have been _gorgeous_ when it was new. You can still see the stenciling on the walls. And some of the plaster work."

"I bet there's photos online of what it looked like before. I might look them up sometime," Jay said, trying to picture it the way she was. Trust Kala to see the ghost of the theater's magnificence in all this decay.

She turned back to him, her eyes full of wonder. "Maybe we'll look them up together. Where did you stay?"

"In one of the offices upstairs. There's a whole second theater on top of this one. C'mon, you'll love it. More of the stuff is intact." Jay flashed her a grin, and Kala followed him the rest of the way across the beam, then down to a part of the floor that was still solid. From there it was much easier to get around. He led her over to the stairs, testing each step to make sure the wood hadn't rotted out. Each riser held a thick layer of gray powdery dust, gradually turning the stairs into a ramp. As Jay picked his way up, he told Kala, "Try not to breathe this shit. Most of it's plaster, but there's probably some asbestos too."

"Seriously? Do you _know_ what asbestos does to your lungs?" Kala said, sounding outraged. "And people _live_ in this?"

"Hey, as a kid I had no clue. No one's coming to clean this up, because no one's supposed to be here. It's probably not any worse than anything else the street kids are doing," Jay pointed out.

Up a couple flights, and Jay stepped out onto the hallway he remembered. "Urb-ex, we're just here to take pictures, nobody's in trouble!" he called out again, and heard a scuffle and a bang from the far end. "Well, somebody was here," he told Kala.

She sighed, looking sad. "I wish they didn't run."

Jay looked at her thoughtfully. In her day job, K was more used to people running _toward_ her. And her expectations of the caped life were still mostly set by her dad and her brother, both of whom were frequently approached by civilians. Even as the Blur, she wasn't around long enough for anyone to get scared and leg it. So it must've been a bit of a shock to have people flee from her.

Jay was used to it. Even in plainclothes, he was a big, intimidating guy. When he happened to see a woman walking alone, he always crossed the street to make it plain that he wasn't following them. People generally didn't approach him, except for kids like Lian who had a skewed sense of survival instinct.

The best thing he could do for Kala was distract her, so he led her across the floor to penthouse theater. Up here, all the seats were still in place, with their decorated sides and the fancy handrails on the steps. The walls still had most the original decoration, too, at least higher up where the taggers couldn't reach. The stage's proscenium arch was intricately stenciled too, and the stage floor looked open and ready for an act to arrive. Only the graffiti, the dust, and the torn-to-shreds curtains showed how long the place had sat empty.

"Wow," Kala whispered, staring all around her. "I mean, _wow_. Jay, this is _amazing_. I can't believe they just left it to rot like this."

Jay couldn't help being captivated by the look of wonder on her face. "It's in a bad part of town, K. No one's gonna pay the ticket prices it takes to keep something like this running. Hell, the only thing keeping the building standing is the fuckin' shoe store in what used to be the lobby."

"Are you shitting me?" Kala asked, her lovely mouth curving in a sneer of disdain.

"I wish. They blocked it off – the stairwells have steel doors bolted shut – and put in some off-brand place. That was never there when I was a kid, but you couldn't get in through the lobby, anyway. The giant mound of trash in the lower theater kinda stopped that, and the stairwells were all blocked up with old signs." Just talking about it brought back the memories.

"Wait, there's signs blocking the stairwell? What do you mean?" Kala asked.

"C'mon," Jay said, and headed that way. This floor was pretty solid; drain pipes had been installed at some point to deal with the water pooling on the roof. The basic architecture was sturdy, all steel beams and brick walls, so it hadn't fallen in on itself.

Jay wrenched open a main stairwell door and peered down into Stygian blackness. He shone the cold bluish beam of his flashlight downward, wondering if everything from years ago was still there. The beam picked out a sparkle of glass not quite covered in dust, and he remembered creeping down here as a kid by the light of a stolen flashlight to marvel at the giant sign.

'The Monarch Theater', in letters a foot high, bright neon ringed with brilliant flashing light bulbs. Jay had stolen one of those bulbs, and sat in his nest of blankets smoking a stolen cigarette to contemplate it. Back in the glory days of the theater, rich people had flocked to that sign, watching silent films at first. The Monarch had seen the rise of the talkies, and then color film. In its heyday the sign had been a proud symbol of the finest entertainment Gotham City had to offer.

Now the huge sign lay in the stairwell of its dilapidated building, most of the bulbs broken, a generation of dust heavy on its bold letters. Jay peered down at it, and felt the same strange nostalgia as he had years ago, a yearning for a place and time he'd never really known. Kala came to stand beside him, and gasped softly at the sight of the sign. "What's it doing in here?" she murmured, voice as soft as if they were in a church or a graveyard.

"No idea," Jay told her in the same hushed tone. "The other main stairwell has the marquee in it. I'm not sure how they got them _in_, much less why they stashed them in the stairwells."

Kala stared, and Jay wondered if she felt the way he did, imagining the scent of popcorn and the sound of an in-house orchestra, picturing the old-time playbills and the bright limelight. It was long before both of their times, and the world tended to view that era through a sepia-tinted lens of nostalgia that forgot how different those times were, and how dangerous. Jay knew better; the times they lived in weren't as bright as everyone wanted them to be, but at least some of the darker parts of the past were gone. The mob had ruled Gotham damn near openly in the thirties, and the police corruption then had been as bad or worse than what Commissioner Gordon inherited decades later.

When he felt they'd stared at the old sign in its improbable resting place long enough, Jay stepped back. "I saved the best for last," he told Kala, and led her back across the upstairs lobby. She stayed close to his side, frowning at the lurid graffiti on the walls.

Even after all these years, he remembered which office it had been. Jay stopped in front of the door, struck by the thought that he would open it to find his thirteen-year-old self inside, probably smoking a cigarette, with a stack of tires he'd winched up here by means of a rope thrown over the big central beam. And what would he say to that angry, lonely, fiercely independent boy? _Things get better, kid. They're great for a while, then they suck, then you basically die, and it sucks again to come back, but if you hang in there, everything gets better. You get to have a family who actually cares about you, and the most amazing woman you ever met comes to visit on the holidays._

Knowing himself, that kid would probably just tell him to piss off and quit blowing smoke up his ass.

Chuckling at the mental image, Jay pushed the door open. The room was empty, the walls still bare of graffiti, peeling plaster the only decoration. With the way the offices had been divided after the theater's heyday, this room had only part of a window, which was why Jay had chosen it. It got enough light to see by, but unlike the other offices didn't have a lot of glass to let in the cold. There was some trash in the corners, fast-food wrappers and such, and Jay noted that _he_ had never left food trash in his own space. That was a great way to wake up with a rat scampering across your face. So either this room wasn't being used right now, or whoever slept here hadn't learned that particular lesson.

"You _lived_ here," Kala said, stepping into the room. It was a mind-fuck to see her, freaking _Supergirl_, in this room. With that same stain on the ceiling that looked a little bit like a bear, and the same weak light coming in from the partial window. The same smell of disuse and decay and dust. And, as he looked closer, a couple of lighter patches on the walls where he'd hung posters he scavenged. The futon he'd laid on the bare floor to use as a mattress was long gone, just like the stereo he'd had. Jay had only taken his photo of Catherine with him when he left this place, the last time. He hadn't really expected to find anything left behind, either. He hadn't had much, then.

For a moment Jay felt like he was standing outside of himself, watching the man he'd become and the woman at his side from the eyes of the child he'd been. This was the future he'd never quite dared to believe he could have; the uniform he wore, and all it meant, was even more of a fairy-tale. To be Robin had seemed such an impossible dream, even when Bruce offered it to him. To be his _own_ man, with Batman's blessing, was something he'd never even thought of back then.

Jay's mind flashed to Julio, Carl, Lenny, and the rest of the kids. He was as much a legend to them as Batman had been to him. Although, he'd been the kind of person to smack Batman in the chest with a tire iron, instead of falling into hero-worship. Jay remembered that first meeting with a chuckle, now.

Kala's boots gritted lightly on the dirty floor, and she turned to look at him, leaning back against the wall as if the grime was a non-issue. "What's funny?"

"Ancient history," he said. "The first time I ever met Bruce, he caught me stealing his tires, right? So he called me out on it, and I said I wasn't stealing, and he asked me what the tire iron was for, then. I said, 'This!' and whacked him one with it."

Her silvery laugh sounded just right even in this empty, run-down room. "You really were a little firecracker, weren't you?"

"Yeah, I was. He followed me up here and found the rest of his tires. Tried to take me to a new school that opened up in the area for troubled youths, thinking it was the best place for me – and it'd keep me out of the system, which I made damn clear I didn't wanna be a foster kid." Jay hadn't thought of Ma Gunn and her young thugs in years. He looked back now with a skeptical eye.

"How did that turn out, since I know you ended up with Bruce?" Kala asked, curious as ever.

"Oh, the broad running the place was actually training a gang of thieves. I busted the operation, and Bruce took me in," Jay said, simplifying the tale a bit. "I remember when he introduced me to Commissioner Gordon, the Commish asked him what was up with training another kid, and he said some crap like, 'This boy is more of a man than either of us.' I guess he figured being on the streets, I'd grown up faster than he did."

"That's bullshit," Kala said hotly. "You weren't a man at thirteen, and no one should've expected you to be one. You were a _kid_, Jay. Just because you'd seen too much and _done_ too much and had to take care of yourself, didn't make you any less of a kid. Bruce should've let you just be a fucking kid for a while, instead of shoving you in the Robin suit and taking you out to fight bad guys."

Jay could only blink at her vehemence. He'd never once thought of it that way. "I didn't _want_ to be a kid, K."

She shrugged. "So what? That doesn't mean you were ready to start carrying adult responsibilities. Mom kept us out of capes until we were sixteen for a _reason_. Look at all the ex-sidekicks we know, Jay. Don't they all have issues from growing up too fast? You shouldn't have been Robin, you should've been allowed to be just Jay Todd for a while."

"If he wasn't training me to be Robin, I would've really wondered why the hell a grown man would take in an obnoxious kid like me," Jay said, feeling oddly numb. The last time she'd gone off on this, right before he gave her the file, he hadn't quite known why Kala was so insistent. Now he did – now he fully understood how protective she was. This had never been something judgmental, she just fucking _cared_ this much.

"And you needed a chance to find out that maybe you _deserved_ a good life, without worrying about how _useful_ you could be to someone," Kala shot back. "I'm not saying you weren't capable, Jay. I'm saying you didn't have to prove yourself worthy of anyone's time, or effort, or care. You already _were_."

Jay didn't know what to say to that. Kala made it sound so simple, and from his point of view it had been much more complicated. "It wasn't just that," he finally said. "Letting me be Robin … it was all I wanted back then. A chance to do something _good_, to be someone who _mattered_. I didn't _want_ a family, K, I wanted to be my own man. The only reason I threw in with Bruce was because he gave me that chance."

She just gave him a mulish look. "You were _always_ someone who mattered. How many times and ways do I have to tell you that?"

His heart clenched, and the boy he'd been spoke up in the back of his mind. _You have to protect her, no matter what it takes. She's the best thing you'll ever have._ There were times in Jay's life when he'd really, _really_ needed someone to believe he mattered – and for one reason or another, he didn't get that from the people he was with. He knew better now, he knew Bruce cared about him for more than Robin, but as a kid, he hadn't understood. He'd only seen Dick's legacy, and tried to fill those golden boots as best he could. As much as he'd told himself he didn't need Bruce, part of him had wanted a home, a place to belong.

"Someone should've _helped_ you," Kala continued. "Not just _channeled your anger_, because fuck that. You're more than your rage, and more than a weapon. Someone should've helped you get a handle on everything that happened to you – and don't try to tell me everything was fine after your mom died, I know damn well it left its mark by the way you talk about it – and helped you figure out what _you_ wanted to be and do. Not just channeled you into someone else's fucking flawed-ass coping strategy. I love my uncle, I do, but he is _not_ the best example of how to deal with trauma. You had too many ups and downs, too fast, and you never got a chance to _breathe_."

Jay reached up to run a hand through his hair, and realized he was still wearing the damn helmet. He settled for loosening the collar of his jacket instead. "K … I get it, but we can't change the past. There's no sense in being pissed at B now. He did the best he could." For a wonder, he believed that. As an adult, now, and as someone who'd trained up a new-ish vigilante, Jay understood better how Bruce had had to work within his own limitations. He really had done what he thought was best. He might've been wrong, but it wasn't malicious, and Jay couldn't stay angry at him for fucking up when _he'd_ done his share of fuck-ups, too. Shit, over the summer he'd beaten Kala badly enough that he broke her ribs, badly enough that he'd vomited from sheer revulsion at what he'd done, all because he'd been wrong about her and desperate to convince her to _leave_ before she got killed. How was that any different? He'd been wrong, Bruce had been wrong, they'd both fucked up.

Well, Jay had actually had the guts to apologize. Bruce had taken years to admit he'd messed up, and to ask forgiveness. Maybe that meant Bruce was more screwed up in the head than Jay was.

"It wasn't good enough," Kala said staunchly, her arms still crossed. "You deserved better."

Jay smiled, knowing she could see it. "Yeah, well, I _have_ better, now."

Kala looked at him and sighed. "All right, I'll let it go. Just don't you forget, Jay."

"I won't," he promised, and decided to get them both out of this room before any other uncomfortable truths got unearthed. "C'mon, I haven't shown you the best part."

"I thought that gorgeous theater was the best part," Kala said, willing to let the past be for now.

Chuckling, Jay led her out of the room he'd once lived in, and past a couple doors that hung on their hinges. "This was originally the upstairs lobby, I think," he told Kala as the old, warped boards creaked underfoot. "It got divided into offices, and then un-divided at some point."

Jay stepped in the door of the room he'd _wanted_ to live in, but it had just been too impractical, and heard Kala gasp in awe. The entire back wall was taken up by an enormous arched window, with views of the city. Almost all of the glass was still intact, too. Kala stepped forward, gingerly touching one of the panes, and looked out at the lights of Gotham's night. "Jay, this is _gorgeous_."

"You're gorgeous," he said automatically, and she smiled at him over her shoulder.

"It looks like a ballroom," Kala said, looking to the left and right. Three of the four walls had enormous multi-paned arched windows, lending a sense of grandeur to the room.

"Maybe it was, back in the vaudeville days," Jay said. "I used to love sitting in here, watching the city outside."

"I can see why," Kala murmured, and let herself float upward. It was still impressive to him whenever she did that; none of the other flyers he'd known had ever been so casual about their powers. Kala did it just to get a better angle on the view.

Then again, she did it like this because he _knew_ what she was, the way very few other people in her life did. It was a trust thing, in a way. Other than Jay, only her family understood just how powerful she was. Hell, he could almost feel sorry for Sebast, not having a tenth of a clue of just how badass she was.

A little tremor of unease spoke up at the back of his mind, telling him Sebast had been nuts about the girl _without_ knowing everything about her, but Jay stamped on that the way he would've if he'd seen a roach run across the floor. "There's only one view better than that," he told her.

"If you say it's your view of my ass right now, Jay, I'm going to throw you out that broken window we passed," Kala said, but she was laughing.

"Okay, there's only _two_ views better than that," he responded, and she turned in midair to glower at him. Jay just smirked. "There's a fire escape on the other end. I used to sit out there all the time, when the weather was good. You can just barely see Metropolis, across the bay."

"Now this I have to see," Kala said, landing, and he led her across the upstairs hall, past the projection booth – no projectors, those were gone long before he moved in – and to the remaining fire escape. The bottom two flights of stairs had been ripped out, probably by the same people who'd shoved the signs down the stairwells, trying to limit access to the top floor. The top part of the fire escape was still secure, though.

The breeze hit him first, cooler at night, less tainted than the daytime air somehow. Jay took a deep breath of it, remembering how he'd sat up here and looked across the bay at the bright, shiny skyline of Metropolis. Not like he could make out much more than the general shapes of buildings at that distance, but he'd enjoyed wondering about what people over there were doing, what kind of lives they led.

Kala stood at his side, her gloved hands lightly resting on the rail, and the breeze played with the ends of her hair, pulling it free from the bun. Jay reached out and tucked one of the stray strands behind her ear. Her eyes were distant, and after a moment Kala murmured, "I can see my parents' apartment from here."

"Really?" Jay asked, leaning close to her.

"Well, I've got telescopic vision," Kala said, sounding a little embarrassed. "But I can just barely see it, looking between those two skyscrapers." She pointed, and Jay tried to follow her line of sight, but in the haze he could only see the skyscrapers themselves.

Another thought had taken hold of him though. "So like, if you'd been looking out the window at just the right time, you could've seen me?"

"Maybe. If I'd looked toward Gotham at the right time," Kala said with a little shrug. "Telescopic vision didn't kick in until well after flight, though, so I was sixteen or seventeen by then. You were already Robin."

Jay did the math in his head; she was two years younger, the last time he'd sat on this balcony he'd been thirteen, so she would've been eleven and hadn't had the power. "Damn. No luck, when you were sixteen I was eighteen, and in murder college. The last time I lived here, you were eleven. And doesn't _that_ make me feel like a creep."

Kala knocked her shoulder against his. "Stop it, it's only two years. You _should've_ been able to as much of a kid at thirteen as I was at eleven. I was a bossy little brat at that age."

"What do you mean, _was_?" Jay teased, and she shoved him, laughing. "I'm kidding, K! Jeez, you should know I don't mind a little bossiness by now."

"Yeah no shit, have you _met_ you?" she shot back. "Someone has to take charge."

"As long as you feed me, I'm fine with it," Jay replied.

Kala elbowed him again, then grabbed his arms and tugged them around her as if she needed him to keep out the cold. "I really think I would've liked that little boy."

He laughed softly. "Yeah, there were some things you wouldn't have liked about that boy. I was never a normal kid, K."

"I _know_, Jay. I read the file, remember? I saw that picture of you in the crowd. You told me what happened to that bastard." She meant the pimp, the one who'd beaten his friend to death – the one Jay himself had killed. Kala sighed, leaning back into him. "If I'd had to survive like you did, I probably would've done the same. If not more dramatic. Supers have this uncomfortable tendency to unlock new powers under stress. I _am_ a Super, but when the chips are down, Jay, I'm a _Lane_. I'll do whatever it takes to survive."

"And the rest of the world is grateful you are," Jay pointed out. "A bunch of dead white guys on the currency is boring as fuck, but it's better than General Zod's face on every coin."

"Can't argue that," Kala said, then gave a bitter little laugh. "Would've been my face on some of it, you know. The House of Zod crest on one side, my noble Kryptonian profile on the other."

Jay reached up and ran a fingertip down her nose. "Nah, you've got your mom's profile. Gorgeous, but stubborn as fuck. Zod _thought_ he could keep you under his thumb, and maybe he did for a while – you were young, K – but you wouldn't toe the line forever. You're too much a hellion for that."

She sighed again, snuggling into his embrace. "Know what I said to him, right before I shot him? In English, which we hadn't used to each other since about the second meeting."

"Tell me," Jay said. Might as well trade a little, memory for memory.

Kala's voice changed, falling into the Empress' measured cadence, but he knew she was quoting. "Dru-Zod and I were in the weapons locker, Jase and Dad were right outside, and if I I'd pulled the trigger, it might have killed all of us. Dru-Zod said to me, 'We four are the last of our kind, all that remains of Krypton's glory. You will not destroy us all, Kala. You are a daughter of the House of El, you dare not extinguish the last of our legacy…' And I grabbed my mother's bloodied locket that Luthor had hung around my neck – the locket Jase and I gave her on our sixteenth birthday, the one Luthor took off after he shot her – looked him right in the face, and yelled, 'Liar! Fuck you, fuck Krypton, and fuck your precious legacy! I am the daughter of the House of Lane!' And then I locked us both in to protect my brother and my dad, and I shot him with a kryptonite laser."

Jay squeezed her tight. He knew what Krypton meant to her, he'd been to the Fortress with her. For her to deny it all for the sake of humanity… "We're all _damn_ lucky you're your mother's daughter," he told her huskily.

Kala nudged her head against the helmet. "We're all damn lucky you're Catherine Todd's son, too. Fuck genetics, it's about who we choose to be – and in the end you chose not to kill Bruce or Tim or anybody else, except the one sonofabitch who deserves it."

"Oh, I killed a bunch of other people," Jay said.

She rolled her eyes at that. "You haven't lately. And you weren't totally in your right mind then. You _know_ what I mean, Jay. Even back then, it wasn't what you wanted to do that was wrong, it was your execution. No pun intended. You were trying to clean up Gotham. Isn't that what we all want to do?"

"Well, all of us who aren't bleeding the city dry," Jay said.

"You never targeted an innocent. And you scared the hell out of some really bad people who needed to be scared," Kala said staunchly. "My father wouldn't like to hear me say it, but you weren't _wrong_."

"I didn't go about it the right way," Jay replied, his voice quiet. His war on the city – on Bruce, on Joker, on the drug trade itself – had not had the impact he wanted. He hadn't gotten the closure he needed from it, either. Hell, he'd gotten more benefit from the realization that Bruce _trusted_ him to _train the Super_ than he had from all the blood and vengeance. What did that say about him? Was he going soft, or did he really just want _someone's_ approval that badly?

Who cared, when he knew Bruce would _never_ approve of him killing Joker? The girl in his arms, the girl who was half from another galaxy, _she_ approved. And she was willing to help him, even if that thought gave Jay thoroughly mixed feelings. On the one hand, a woman who'd stand at his side while he made sure Joker never beat any other kid to death, he could respect the hell out of that. On the other … her dad _wouldn't_ like it. And what the hell was he doing, taking Supergirl on a murder mission?

He sighed, squeezing her tight. Kala gave him an arch look, and said, "You'd better not be obsessing about corrupting me again. Jay, you haven't _done_ anything."

"Oh, I'm gonna do something about corrupting you tonight," he said. It was so much easier to lean into the lust and attraction they both felt, than to worry about such implications. Jay gave her another squeeze, and lowered his voice. "How about we head back to my current residence, and you indulge a deprived, affection-craving little street rat, hmm? You keep saying I deserve better…"

"I think that could be arranged," Kala said fondly, and kissed the curve of his helmet.

* * *

**Authors' Note:** The visuals are based on the abandoned Proctor's Palace Theater in Newark. Dan Bell and the Proper People both explored it, and have videos on YouTube.


	47. Go Marching in Like Toy Soldiers

Selina hadn't gone straight over to find Jay and Kala after her conversation with Cobblepot. For one thing, they were already out doing the vigilante thing by that hour. And after that, she wasn't sure if they'd be at his apartment, or the Manor, but given the way they'd behaved this week, she really didn't want to intrude on them. While deciding when would be the best time to visit, she remembered that Kala still had her emeralds; the night of the gala, no one had cared about jewelry.

So she stopped by his building in the morning – well, closer to noon, but she wasn't an early riser and neither were most of the Bats. Selina intended to head into the lobby and just buzz his apartment, but she glanced up out of habit and saw a window cracked open on the top floor. She'd cased this place for Babs back in spring, and had figured out which apartment was his, so Selina was intrigued to realize that was _his_ window. Who in their right mind spent as much time, money, and effort on security as Jay did, and then left a _window_ open? At the end of December, no less?

Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back, so Selina broke into the building next door, crossed to Jay's roof while avoiding the tripwires, and climbed down over the edge, looking out for the loose bricks and pressure sensors. She made it to his window sill, noticing the thin tripwire strung across it; at least he wasn't _totally_ slacking. But the sensors inside were disarmed, and Selina raised the window cautiously.

Jay lived in a studio apartment, one big room, and she could see most of it from her current vantage point. Not much to note, beyond the fact that the place was cleaner than it had been in spring. The only thing Selina was interested in was the bed, and the comforter that covered two forms. A flood of dark hair and one slender arm lay across the pillow nearest the window, and Selina grinned to realize Kala was soaking up whatever sunlight she could.

They really were awfully cute together. Selina smiled, and said cheerfully, "Good morning, kids, rise and shine!"

Or tried to. She got through 'morning' before the comforter was thrown back, and a sizzling noise broke the silence of the apartment.

…

Jay woke up to someone else's voice in his apartment. His reaction to that was immediate, ingrained, requiring no conscious thought. He flipped out of the bed on the side opposite the voice, drawing his gun and his knife. With that scant protection between him and the potential threat, he peeked over the top of the mattress. There was a strange sizzling noise in the room, but he discounted that for the moment.

"_Mother of God!_" the voice yelped, and he recognized it as Selina's. Why was Selina here, and how did she get in? Jay blinked, willing his brain to catch up.

The window was open. He'd cracked it last night, letting in a little cooler air; they'd gotten the whole place steamy last night. It was safe enough with the tripwire across the sill, and Kala in his bed. Speaking of Kala, at the sound of Selina's voice she'd leapt out of bed and was now hovering several feet above it, bristling. The sizzling noise, Jay realized, was _her eyes_.

Jay straightened up to see Kala hovering, her eyes red with incipient heat-vision, and Selina's fingers on the window sill. She must've dropped down when Kala turned the pilot lights on. Her voice was shaky as she said, "Good morning to you, too. _Fuck_."

Before Jay could say anything, Kala blinked, her eyes returning to their normal hazel shade. "Selina? What are you doing here? God, I'm sorry. I just didn't expect it to be you."

Selina peeked over the edge of the sill, and seeing that the heat-vision wasn't aimed at her any longer, she pulled herself up to rest on her elbows. Kala gave her a rather sheepish smile, shrugging lightly in apology. Selina recovered her composure to say, "Well, I dropped by to bring you some news. And also to get my jewelry, which we all forgot about after the gala. I wasn't expecting _this_ reception."

Jay, of course, decided to point out the obvious, since no one else had mentioned it. "K, you realize you're naked?" he asked.

Just when you thought those eyes couldn't get any wider. With a yelp, the young Super dove for the bed and wrapped herself up in the comforter faster than the human eye could see. "Dammit, Red, you could've brought that up a little sooner!"

Selina just laughed, telling her, "You almost lasered me in the face. We'll call it even."

"To be fair, you, I didn't actually laser anything," Kala said, blushing.

"You've been with _him_ too long, if you think about heat vision before clothes," Selina said. "Speaking of which, Mr. Todd, you seem to be a little under-dressed yourself."

Kala winced a little at that, realizing that herself, Selina looking more than a little amused. With not a single drop of his girl's self-consciousness, Jay set his gun and knife on the bed before reaching out to grab his boxers off the floor and slide them on. "You wanna come around to the door like a civilized person, and we can talk?"

"Why would I go all that way when I'm already in the window? I'll just stay for the show," Selina asked, smirking at them both.

Kala muttered something, only to disappear into the bathroom with super-speed. Jay sighed and stood up, grabbing a shirt. "Fine, watch the tripwire and get in here before someone calls the cops. Hell are you doing running roofs in plainclothes, anyway?"

"I didn't come out intending to run rooftops. I saw your window open and thought that was odd, for such a paranoiac. So I came to check it out." Selina eeled her way into the room without touching the crossed tripwires Jay had mounted in the window, and strolled over to Jay's chair to sit down. "I see why you're not worried about anyone breaking in. Must be nice, having your very own personal Super-guard."

"Yeah, it is," Jay laughed, tugging on the first pair of pants he saw. Given the way the room was laid out, he really only had one option for someplace to sit, and that was on the bed. He straightened the blankets a little first, and tucked his weaponry back under the pillow.

Kala came out of the bathroom then, wearing plainclothes she'd snatched up on the way in, and still blushing a little. It never failed to amuse Jay that she was still body-shy. "I put the jewelry in my uniform's belt pouch that night. I meant to give it back to you, but things have been a little crazy."

"Plus I lit out as soon as Joker was locked up. I'm not mad, Kala. If I was, I'd just steal something of yours," Selina said, and then Kala's phone was in her hand somehow. Jay hadn't even seen her reach out for the nightstand on her way past it.

Kala managed a chuckle at that, while Jay just held his hand out. Selina tossed him the phone while Kala checked her uniform. She heaved a sigh of relief at finding the emerald set, and handed them over to Selina gratefully. "I can't believe I _left_ it in here! I don't use the belt storage that much, but damn."

"We were all distracted. If I'd known, I could've taken it off you during that impromptu flight, but I was a little more worried about not getting splattered," Selina said dryly. She gave Kala a wink, and added teasingly, "The free show makes up for the inconvenience."

"_Stop,_" Kala groaned, but at least she was laughing.

Jay mock-scowled at Selina. "Knock it off, you poacher."

"Please, Jay, playing Ms. Steal-Your-Girl falls under my specialty, too," Selina taunted.

"Whatever, just keep your paws to yourself," Jay said, and Kala flicked him in the back of the head as she sat down beside him.

"She's not serious, you can stop the caveman act. Selina, you want some coffee or something?" Kala asked. Only then did Jay realize that was probably the normal thing to do, offer a guest refreshment. But Selina had barged in, so he didn't feel bad about not offering her a drink.

"I'm fine, thanks. And I did have an actual reason for being here," Selina said. The air of playful mischief dropped, and she looked at both of them somberly. "I had a meeting with Oswald yesterday."

"Is Penguin trying shit now, too?" Jay asked, thinking of all those shell accounts, and how quickly he could drain them if necessary.

"No, he's actually playing nice for once. Keep it quiet, I don't want to ruin his credibility with the rest of the rogues," Selina scolded. "Anyway, the whole point is that Harv is trying to take over Joker's throne as King of Crime."

Jay snorted at that. "Two-Face? Okay, he's got the resources and the brains, but the minute he needs to kill someone and that coin comes up on the clear side, he's toast. Everyone in town knows he's a slave to random chance."

"Which is what Oswald thought, too. Problem is, Oswald is _smart_. He's looking at the future of Gotham, post-Joker. And no, I didn't tell him our least-favorite jester is living on borrowed time; _everybody_ is starting to realize Joker's lost his edge, since Harley beat him up." Selina pulled her feet up, sitting cross-legged in the chair, and tapped her nails against its arm. "The thing is, Harv is smart, too. He knows Joker's vulnerable, and he's planning to make a move. The single best way to do _that_ would be to show up with Harley's head on a spike, but she's long gone."

"Good," Kala murmured. "I didn't even think of those risks; I'm glad she got away."

Selina nodded. "Well, here's where it comes back to bite us all in the butt. If Harley's not available, the _second_-best target in town is _you_, Mr. Todd."

"Fuck that," Jay scoffed, and Kala sat up sharply.

Selina looked deadly serious. "The phrase Oswald used was, 'He's Joker's nemesis.' You are, you know. He bragged for _years_ about what he did to you, and here you are, bigger and stronger and meaner. You've damn near killed him a couple times, and you're not even crazy from what he did to you."

"That's debatable," Jay said, reeling a little on the inside. He thought of Joker as his nemesis, of course, but it had never once occurred to him that _he_ might haunt the Clown the same way. Holy fuck, was this for real? "Also I thought _Batman_ was Joker's nemesis. I don't wanna get into a hate triangle."

Selina shrugged, and wavered one hand back and forth like a seesaw. "Okay, you're a _little_ crazy, but in _this_ town, you're practically sane, compared to Harv and Johnny and Eddie and all the rest. Oswald thinks Joker's been going downhill since you came back, the second time. Joker would _love_ to take you out or drive you nuts. And sure, Batman's his primary hate-on, but you're a very close second. He tried to take you out, and you're here flipping him off just by existing."

"That's why he's taking potshots at the Bats," Kala said. "He wants _you_, Jay. Whatever Two-Face would do to steal his spot, Joker would do to rescue his reputation."

"Exactly," Selina said. "I mean, killing off Batman himself would be the coup de grace, but half of them think he's some kind of immortal anyway. You showing back up from the dead didn't exactly hurt. So everyone's trying for Bruce, as usual, but they don't think they'll succeed. Harv and Joker both might think they have a shot at _you_, though."

"Bring it," Kala said coldly, and Jay felt a chill run down his spine. There was no sense in tempting fate, no matter how much he wanted to agree with her.

All he said was, "Yeah, they can try, but I'm not exactly easy prey."

"Especially not if you know they're gunning for you, which is why I'm here," Selina said. "And on to part two of the news: you aren't the only one they're considering killing off."

Jay nodded. "You, right? You helped Harley escape." He was expecting her to ask a favor, and he was _not_ letting her and all the cats move in here again.

To his surprise, Selina gave a dry little laugh. "Of course. Everyone knows I helped Pam and Harley get out. No one knows quite how much, but hey, they'd think I helped even if I didn't. Might as well do the right thing if I'm gonna be damned for it anyway. More importantly, using my scalp for a battle-standard is almost as good as running around with Bruce's cowl. Everyone knows about me and him, so if they kill me, it's a mark against the Bat, too."

"No one's going to kill you, either," Kala said, low and serious. Jay realized again just how protective Kryptonians were; hell, she'd probably let Selina and all the cats move to _her_ place in Metropolis, and wouldn't that be fun to explain?

"I'm not worried about me. Nine lives, and I've only used about two of them," Selina said easily. "What bothers me is _your_ name is on the list, Kala. Oh, they don't know who or what you are, but killing a meta is a big deal. And everyone knows about you and Hood, same as they know about me and Batman. They'll take you out to score points on him."

He could feel her shoulders drawing back, and Jay knew that wasn't fear. Kala never shied back from a challenge. Instead, she spoke in measured tones he knew all too well. "Let them come. I am no trophy for these vermin to claim."

Selina tilted her head sideways, looking at Kala intently, and Jay put his hand on K's thigh, squeezing a little to remind the Empress that this wasn't a good time. He could feel the change in tension as she got control of it. At last Selina said, "Well, I have first-hand knowledge of how difficult it's going to be to get the drop on you, now. So I'm not as worried as I was yesterday."

Jay was. He'd started out not wanting Kala in Gotham, worked around to not wanting her dealing with the masks, and finally gotten to not wanting her mixed up in all of it unless she was trained to the same keenly-honed edge he was. He _still_ didn't want her to go up against Joker. But this? Knowing there was a price on her head now – that all the rogues were basically thinking about killing him, her, or Selina to crown themselves the new ruler after Joker had been deposed, or in Joker's case to take back that title – made his stomach tie itself in knots.

The fact that her being with him had landed her in their sights only made it worse. It was one thing to make enemies in this town. To be targeted because of who you slept with? That was insulting, and also dangerous as hell. It meant _she_ would get heat from everything he did. And Jay wasn't exactly all that good at not getting himself in trouble. Knowing everything he did could potentially increase Kala's risk, too … it made him nauseous.

She wasn't afraid, but of _course_ she wasn't afraid. This was the girl who'd let Joker take her hostage because it seemed like the best distribution of resources. And nothing Jay told her could change the fact that she'd risk _herself_ before a civilian. Sure, he'd thrown himself in the line of fire before, but Kala took impossible risks. That was just the nature of what she was: shiny solar-powered bullet-proof badass.

And yet, he'd had his hands on a huge case of kryptonite. He had a knife under his pillow that could cut her throat; if Joker had gotten hold of a blade like that the night of the masquerade, Kala might be _dead_ now. There _were_ palpable dangers right here in Gotham, and if anyone in this miserable town figured out what she was, the risk factor would skyrocket. Jay couldn't let that happen.

…

Kala wrestled control of her mind and voice back from the Empress, who had very definite ideas about how to handle anyone who threatened harm to someone she cared about. She liked Selina, but more importantly, Selina was part of Bruce's family, therefore part of Jay's family, and neither Kala nor the Empress would allow any of his kin to be harmed. They were all _hers_ now, too.

"Thanks for the heads-up," Jay said, too casually. Kala knew when he was low-key freaking out, but he wouldn't let Selina see it.

"No problem," Selina said. "Now that you're properly warned, I'll see myself out. Oswald wanted me to pass this on to Bruce, too. Just so you're aware."

Kala scoffed. "If he tries to chase me out of town just because Two-Face has his knickers in a twist, Bruce can kiss my sweet Kryptonian ass – to borrow a phrase. I understand staying away when there's a shipment of kryptonite coming in, but these jerks don't even know who they're dealing with. I'm not going to run just because someone made a threat."

"Atta girl," Selina said, standing up. "Is the door booby-trapped, or should I use the window?"

"Of course the door is wired up. Don't go climbing the wall in broad daylight again, I'll let you out," Jay said, getting up.

Kala sighed and leaned back against the pillows, thinking. The way she reacted to an unexpected voice in the room was pretty telling. Good luck to Two-Face, if he'd tried a similar stunt. She wouldn't _actually_ laser someone in the face, no matter what her initial instinctive response had been. Beating the snot out of them would suffice. Although, if there was any possibility of them being attacked while they slept, she _might_ need to start sleeping in pajamas again. Flashing Selina was embarrassing enough; the various villains of Gotham did _not_ need a free show.

Jay came back to the bed, frowning. "Yeah, I know," Kala said softly.

"It's not just that. Selina just said you got your mom's legs. I don't even wanna know why or how she knows that," he told her, trying for a smile.

"Oh God, I don't either," Kala groaned, reaching for his hand. He took it, and let her pull him down to the bed beside her.

"We have to be more careful," Jay said, tugging her closer. He ended up with Kala in his lap, his forehead pressed to hers, her long legs wrapped around his waist. "The thing is, as long as they think you're an Amazon, you should be safe. If they figure out you're Kryptonian … there's too much k floating around in the black market. We know some of them already have it. We _can't_ let them catch a hint of what you really are."

"I know," she told him, cupping his face in her hands. His stubble tickled her palms. "I know, Jay. I'm sorry about that with the heat vision. I wasn't awake yet, I just read it as a threat and came up ready to fight."

"I know. I came up with the gun in one hand and the knife in the other, remember. And we both bounced out of bed buck naked, 'cause self-defense beats modesty." Jay sighed, and gave her a lopsided grin. "At least Selina got some entertainment out of it."

"_Please_ don't keep reminding me. I'm embarrassed enough," Kala said.

"Yeah, well, if it'd been Joker, that would've been the last thing he saw. Great legs, great rack, red eyes? And then _szzzzzzt_," Jay tried to joke, making a noise like bacon in the pan. "Not that I mind the thought of him getting crisped, but I kinda hope the last thing he sees is gonna be my boot or my fist coming at his face."

"Someday soon, that _will_ be the last thing he sees," Kala assured him, running her hands over his shoulders, down to his biceps, and squeezing affectionately. "Joker will get his just desserts."

"Yeah. Now we just worry about every other motherfucker in this town," Jay said, with a bitter laugh.

She sighed, pressing her forehead against his as if she could somehow transfer her certainty to him, right through skin and bone. "I'm not that worried. Forewarned is forearmed, right?"

"Don't make light of it," Jay warned. "This is serious, K. We can't let them figure you out. You need to be extra careful about the heat vision, especially. Almost no one else has that. If you pop up with more than speed, they're gonna wonder, but the heat vision will _definitely_ send them all scrambling for kryptonite. Luthor will have a fucking buy-one-get-one sale, the smarmy fuck."

"We'll be careful," she tried to reassure him.

"_You_ be careful," Jay scolded. "You need to watch your ass, majorly. It's all on you now, K, you've gotta keep it under wraps. Don't let them get a _hint_ of what you are."

"I won't," she said, not liking his fraught tone.

Jay shuddered a little. "I don't wanna be the reason you get killed. I _can't_."

"You won't be," she insisted. "C'mon, Jay, there are so many other risks out there…"

"Yeah, but now people who wanna score points off _me_ are aiming at _you_," he growled. "And I'd like to just put 'em all six feet under, but then I'd have to wait another five years and probably die and come back again before they'd invite me to Christmas. You _know_ how shitty the Todd luck is, K, you saw my file. It's been one bullshit bad turn after another. I'm _not_ gonna let that fall on you. I can't let that happen."

Kala thought she saw what the real problem was. Of course, being Jay, he wasn't able to say _I can't lose you_ unless he'd just woken up from a nightmare. Too much emotional vulnerability. She tried to assuage that fear anyway. "No one is going to take me away from you, Jay. I pro–"

He moved quickly, covering her mouth. "Don't, K. Just … don't. It's not a promise anyone can make. Shit happens, and I happen to know fate takes stuff like that as a challenge. Just be careful, all right?"

"I will," Kala told him, and kissed him. "I'll be careful, Jay, and I'll watch out for both of us. Just like you will. They won't get either of us. And they won't get Selina, either."

"Selina's got nine lives and a big bad Bat behind her, she'll be fine. I'm worried about you. You're the one I've gotta keep an eye out for. Can't let that sweet Kryptonian ass take any damage," Jay said, but at least a trace of humor was showing again.

She smiled at him, slow and sweet, and kissed his brow before replying. "I'll be fine, too. I've got a trigger-happy asshole watching over me."

Jay managed to chuckle at that. "That's my favorite pet name, now. I really shoulda known what you were like, when _that_ was how you reacted to being shot at."

"Oh, so now you admit you really _were_ shooting at me?" Kala taunted, glad to lighten the mood.

"Not _at_ you, I can aim," Jay retorted. "But in your general direction, yeah."

"I heard what I heard," Kala said archly. "Why am I sleeping with you again?"

Jay kissed her, and answered, "You want a demonstration?"

Kala squirmed away with a faux scowl. "Eww, why would I let you touch me? You finally admitted, after about seven months and god knows how many times I've slept with you, that you actually tried to shoot me the night we met, you enormous fucking troll!"

"Well, enormous, anyway," Jay teased, and she stopped struggling long enough to groan at the pun with a wrinkled nose, socking him in the shoulder lightly. That was time enough to pin her down, and kiss her again, and again. And again. And run his hand down her side possessively, tracing those delicious curves.

"Oh, yeah," Kala said in a breathy voice. Her expression was still a little annoyed, her eyes trying to glare at him even while he distracted her. "It's starting to come back to me a little. A tiny bit. Slowly. I think_ that's_ why I let you touch me."

"'Cause I'm so good at it?" Jay murmured, loving the way she sassed back, even in the middle of this.

"That's part of why," Kala admitted, and kissed him long and slow and simmering. Jay let himself dive into that kiss, and lose himself in her.

…

Arkham's cells were always just a _tiny_ bit damp. Joker figured it added to the ambiance. In the sweltering days of high summer, it got hot and stuffy in the asylum, but the basement-level cells stayed cool and dank all year 'round. In winter, they were positively chilly. Joker remembered one inmate, denied blankets because they thought he'd hang himself with them, somehow managing to set fire to his foam mattress. The resulting fumes were toxic, but the poor bastard would've died of smoke inhalation anyway. A shame, really – the man had been within earshot of Joker's cell, and he'd had a delightful mix of buried rage and genuine remorse. The things he did during his psychotic breaks, he actually regretted afterward. Joker could've had _weeks_ of fun toying with that fragile psyche.

Alas, there was no one else down in the belly of Arkham currently. They didn't like housing Joker near anyone else, as his ideas of entertainment tended to be fatal to his roomies.

Lack of diversion left him contemplating his own situation. Which was frankly _boring_, after the first day. The guards had taken the opportunity to vent their displeasure, as they usually did, cinching his cuffs far too tight and yanking him around as they took him to his cell. Pain didn't bother him; he didn't feel as keenly as he had before the acid. Besides, pain and injury always faded quickly.

For the first day, he waited, expecting Harley to get herself caught. He'd made it plain that he wouldn't stop until she answered to him, and he figured she'd come confront him before he killed one of her friends. Or she would strike out at his men, and good ol' Jonny Frost was waiting for her. Harley had a high resistance to many drugs, but Joker had left very careful instructions on how to sedate her – and once they had her, they could chain her up tight enough to hold her until he could get out, and take his sweet time.

Joker spent his first day back in Arkham thinking about his plans for Harley, which led to reminiscing about the way blood looked in the moonlight. Almost black, but with a rich gleam all its own. And the way it flowed, thicker than water. He went on a pleasant stroll through his own memories, many of which featured that glossy sheen.

All the way back to that night at the crossroads, under the pale light of a gibbous moon, blood on his knife and his hands, blood running down a woman's skin to mix with the dusty soil. Joker could remember every second of that night, the metallic smell of blood, the clatter of dry branches in the breeze, the fog rising from the damp ground, the distant howl of someone's dog, the faint scent of crushed grass where he'd pulled the car off onto the shoulder. He couldn't remember ever feeling so alive, the night wrapped around him close as a lover.

Maybe he ought to save that for the end of Harley. After he'd had his fun, after he'd made her pay for every injury and insult, maybe he'd take her to that same place and cut out her beating heart under the moonlight. It'd be a suitably romantic ending.

By the second day, he realized Harley wasn't coming. She hadn't made a move at all, and the news outlets were full of stories about the gala. He'd made sure one of his own men called in to several of them, claiming to have been at the party, and quoting Joker's line to Batman. It was repeated in the tabloids and on television. Harley _had_ to have heard it…

But she hadn't struck out, or made her way here. He got a phone smuggled in – there were always guards who needed cash, and he had lots of it – and sent the boys looking for information. What they found out infuriated him.

What that girl at the gala said was true. Harley was _gone_. Word was just beginning to trickle through town, but apparently the bank she, the veggie, and the cat had robbed together had yielded enough cash for her to go on the run. Joker raged in his cell, pacing and knotting his hands into fists until his nails cut into his palms.

Never mind. It didn't matter. He'd find her, eventually. There was nowhere on this earth she could go that he couldn't follow. If he had to call in some favors, he would. Or maybe he just had to make a big enough scene that she came running back to deal with him. Carving the cat into pieces ought to do it. Or maybe finding that sister of hers. As far as Joker knew, they hadn't spoken in years, but people would do very strange things for family.

He had a bigger problem. As the other so-called rogues of Gotham realized he was in Arkham, and Harley was gone, he was losing face. Joker really didn't care what the lot of them thought about him. He served only himself, he wasn't interested in _status_ among a bunch of half-crazed two-bit bad guys who were all so deep into their own schtick they didn't even realize what a joke it all was.

Still, if they disrespected him, it made things harder on the street. Getting things done was exponentially more difficult if people didn't clear out of his way. Joker had grown used to being feared, to getting what he wanted just by demanding it, and he'd shown them time and again that he was not to be trifled with. How quickly they all forgot.

His men were hesitant to report the rumors they were hearing, but it all boiled down to people thinking he was losing his edge. And that idiot Two-Face trying to take over his town. As if Harvey Dent could ever understand Gotham's rotten soul. He saw the world in black and white, good and evil, and he strove for the fairness of pure random chance. He didn't have a _clue_ how Gotham's best and brightest depended on the shadow of 'evil' to make their light shine brighter. Or how the darkest parts of the city got that way because of how sharply the light shone elsewhere. He couldn't conceive of the beauty in ugliness or the disgusting nature of pleasantries. He was a philistine, locked in his own narrow dichotomy.

Worse was Black Mask. A mere thug, no artistry, no higher ambition, he just wanted power for the brute joy of having it. Oh, he pretended a degree of elegance and sophistication, but at the end of the day he was just another gangster with a few more daddy issues. And he was supposed to be released after New Year's.

Joker would need to deal with both of them, if he wanted to work unfettered and find his wayward Harley. He sighed in aggravation; Harley could wait. It would be best to make her think she'd gotten away, so she'd let down her guard. Then he could deal with her and the veggie at his leisure.

So, he needed to get out. And then he needed to remind everyone in Gotham why they went in fear of him. The cat could help with that, or the zombie bird, someone very dear to all the Bats in the Bristol belfry…

It was a wonder no one else had ever seen it. Batman strolled through Crime Alley _openly_ on the anniversary of his parents' deaths, for crying out loud! Once you figured out who he was – and it was Jason Todd, well, Sheila Haywood really, who'd been the key that fully unlocked that knowledge – everything else fell into place all too easily. The sad tale of a billionaire orphan, the boys he adopted from similarly tragic backgrounds, there'd always been gossip about ulterior motives. Not much, though, because Brucie had the money and the lawyers to sue the pants off anyone caught in slander or libel, and besides, there'd never been a hint of impropriety in his behavior or his background. He had so damn many women it almost seemed like overcompensation, but no, that was all part of the game.

Once you knew about his _real_ motive, well, that was a fine joke. Saving youngsters from danger, only to dress them up in bright primary colors and throw them into _more_ danger. It was the kind of logic only a Bat could possibly reason his way into. Joker didn't mind, the Bird-boys were often more fun than Batsy himself. They all had so much to prove. Even the first had been trying to live up to Batman's ideal, and of course all the rest were trying to fill _his_ pixie boots. Delicious irony. He'd even had a girl Robin, briefly, but Joker had never gotten to play with that one.

The Batgirls were mostly out of his reach; the second one was spooky, moving like a ninja, and she stayed out of his sphere of influence. The first one had been fun, and Joker had stumbled over _her_ real identity. A shame, honestly – if he'd known she was Batgirl at the time, he would've done more than just shoot her. Ah well, missed opportunities. At least he'd left his mark, another scar on Batman's already tortured soul. Although she'd slipped away from him, too.

Not as blatantly as Dead Hood. That rankled, honestly. He should've been _dead_, and if he _had_ lived, he should've been broken in body, mind, and soul. That he was up and running around and playing nice with his _family_, dating a meta and all, was an offense. The boy had been Joker's triumph, and he'd gone and undone all that hard work. For nothing, really. He was just another Robin now, one who hit a little harder and wore darker colors.

There was one loose end pestering him. The girl he'd grabbed at the gala. She was something else all right; she should've been dead, after he sliced her throat, but not a drop of blood had showed. And she was intriguing even before that. Far too interesting for the Waynes … but then, the Waynes were much more interesting than they pretended to be. He'd seen her face briefly, and examined his memory, trying to match it up to someone else.

No luck. A shame, really. It would've been fun to figure her out, to pry open that mind of hers. _Something_ a lot darker than she seemed lived behind her eyes, and Joker wanted to call it out and let it go dancing across the rooftops of Gotham. He was _good_ at awakening darkness. Everyone had a bit of monster in their heart; most people denied it strenuously, lying to each other and themselves. They feared that cold cruel splinter in their souls.

Joker had set his free, and fed it, until it became a grand and glorious thing. He'd tried to do the same with Harley, but she ultimately failed to embrace her transformation, and he needed to take back the gift he'd given her.

That girl … she wasn't just another socialite, if she was with the Waynes. Joker had spelled out the threat to them, they had to have _known_ he would come to the gala, and one of them had been stupid enough to bring a _date_? No, that didn't scan, they didn't use innocents as cannon fodder.

She was _someone_. And he had the nagging feeling he _knew_ her from somewhere. Tall, black hair, maybe…? No, not Troia, she was more delicately built than the Amazon. And the shape of her jaw was different. Besides, she didn't talk like an Amazon. She'd sassed him with a biting sarcasm they never used. But then, there was something about the way she'd spoken later, a handful of words in cold defiance…

Joker had been pacing while he puzzled it out, and realization slapped him across the face so sharply he skidded to a halt mid-stride. He'd told her she would be surprised. _'As would you,'_ she'd said, and her voice had _changed_ on the words. Weird, almost Shakespearean phrasing, the tone so cold and final it had piqued his interest even in the middle of a hostage situation. There'd been too much going on at the time, but now, with nothing but stone walls and his own mind to occupy him, he was able to cross-match that tone and wording.

'_You are unworthy to share the same air he breathes,'_ the Blur had said, stalking toward him. The exact same voice, the same homicidal chill on the words.

Joker was always smiling, but his grin broadened now, and he began to laugh to himself. The Blur was something more than mere _speed_. Strange name, stranger vigilante. And of course an Amazon might shrug off a knife to the neck; they were notoriously hard to wound. But he thought there might be something more to her.

He'd have to get hold of her to find out. And that might be the best way to remind all the slinking cowards in Gotham what it meant to fear _nothing_, not even death. There had to be _some_ way around those fancy powers.

Joker knew he'd have to be careful. But he was looking forward to the challenge. Who knew, maybe he could break her mind the way he'd broken Harley's. Wouldn't that be the perfect way to show the zombie bird and all his batty friends how useless their promises of solidarity were?

_You really screwed it up this time, Dead Hood,_ Joker thought, chortling. _You brought your girlfriend out in plainclothes._

_And you let __**me**__ see her face._


	48. The Night the World Begins Again

Most people would look at a wheelchair-accessible roof, and think it was a joke, or just a terrible idea. Most people probably didn't have an extensive background in gymnastics, acrobatics, and parkour, or a family full of the same.

Bruce had done his best, picking a place close to the roof line, installing a trap door and balcony. There were even automatic chocks for her tires, like the ones Babs had in her conversion van. She'd watched fireworks from the chair several times, and a couple of sunsets too. But despite Dinah bringing up a folding chair to put them at the same height, there was still a slight, nagging difference between her experience, and everyone else's.

That was _life_, though, and Babs usually got over it. She'd gotten very good at getting over or around most obstacles, whether internal or external, and usually she managed to get past this one, too. Her life experience was going to be different from everyone else's, that was an unavoidable fact. _Everyone's_ was, in some ways – it was just more obvious, when she was the only person in the family who had to face such considerations.

So, occasionally, she put her head down and bulled through an obstacle instead.

"You good?" Dinah asked, as Babs locked the wheels in place. She had a pretty well-tuned sense for which approach Babs would pick, and might've expected the answer.

"I want to sit a little higher," Babs replied.

Dinah also knew not to argue that it was more dangerous. Their whole lives were dangerous. Instead, she just asked, "Want a hand?"

"Sure," Babs said, relenting a little.

There was a little walkway up here, between two gables, which was always swept clean of snow for the occasion. That was where everyone else usually sat, just arm's reach away from the platform for the chair – but sometimes even that was too far.

Babs' customary rooftop seat, when she wasn't in the chair, was the sheltered nook formed by the nearest attic window. It had a small flat section, just the right size and height. Once comfortably seated there, Babs could lean back and relax, secure in the knowledge that she wouldn't start to slide down. Dinah also tended to sit just in front of her, for backup. For a couple hours of fireworks-watching, it was sufficiently sheltered.

She knew she could get from the chair to that perch and back under her own power, as long as the walkway didn't ice over. But there was no shame in accepting a little help, when it was offered out of kindness instead of pity. For those who flew under the symbol of the Bat, sometimes it was hard to tell the difference. Dinah was not a pitying sort of person, though, and Babs knew she wouldn't lose an ounce of respect in Dinah's eyes for accepting assistance. If anything, she'd gain more; Dinah rolled her eyes at the Bats' lone-wolf ways.

The easiest and safest way for Dinah to help her was for the blonde to drop to one knee in front of the chair, and wrap Babs' legs around her waist. She had to hold them there – while floating in the pool, Babs had enough nerve conduction to kick, but she had no grip strength at all. She hung on instead with her arms around Dinah's shoulders, ignoring the little voice in her head that complained at her for relying on someone else.

Dinah was strong, but her balance was more important. She walked easily across the little distance required, then turned around and knelt down again, letting Babs get herself situated. "I should've waited for Jay to finish making that triple-decker sandwich, and let him or Kala do the honors," Dinah said, gently teasing.

"He'd panic. And she'd take it way too seriously," Babs replied. "Maybe next year."

"Next year's gonna be interesting," Dinah said, but they were both aware of Kala's hearing, and leery of saying too much. Babs had passed on Dick's gossip, of course, and Dinah was of the opinion that the two kids were both _very_ serious about one another. As long as no one pressured them too soon, they might just get to keep Kala around.

As if the thought had summoned him, Dick poked his head out of the attic window. "Aww, I missed my chance to play gallant swain," he said, grinning.

"Watch it, birdboy, or I'll swain you right off the roof," Dinah teased back.

"The word you're looking for is _yeet_," he said, climbing out with a platter of hors d'ouvres perfectly balanced in one hand. Dick sat down near the both of them, offering the cheese and olives.

"Jay got Donna to say it, but I'm still resisting," Dinah replied.

Dick just chuckled at her, and the three of them set about snacking. Babs refused to think about any of the several issues demanding her attention. Joker was still not talking, although earlier today he'd laughed to himself, and that boded ill. Selina had told Bruce about the threat from Two-Face, and Babs had set up some extra surveillance around Park Row and Jay's apartment building, just in case. Everything in Libya was still quiet, but that was an ominous quiet, not to be trusted. And the harlequin graffiti was still popping up around the East End, and even further away. Property damage and vandalism calls were up on the police scanner, and the domestic violence calls were no more frequent, but were getting more intense. Emergency room admissions were up. Babs was watching all the trends and knew the situation was escalating, just when Black Mask was rumored to be making bail and Two-Face was trying to cut into Joker's territory. But she was _not_ going to think about any of it just now. They _had_ to spend an hour or two just being normal people, watching fireworks on New Year's Eve, or all of them would burn out. Bruce might live and breathe being Batman twenty-four-seven, but the rest of them needed at least a slight break from the vigilante life. And occasions like this meant they could enjoy that break in the company of people who understood exactly why they needed it so much.

Gradually the rest of the family arrived. No one commented on Babs' chosen perch; she'd sat up here before. Kala did come over to sit near her, and Babs smiled at that. She could accept a little understated protectiveness from a flier.

Jay, of course, sat right on the roof line beside Kala. He actually snuggled up to her, prompting Dinah to warn, "No canoodling, you two. No one wants this to turn into a make-out session with an audience."

"Same goes for you two," Jay shot back. "Also, I'm sitting close because she's _warm_. Be jealous. I've got my very own solar-powered Super-Snuggie."

Kala made a retching noise, and elbowed him. "I _warned_ you, Robin! I will spew all over you!"

"That's a new kink," Dinah laughed, leaning back against Babs.

Jay and Kala both froze in horror, staring at Dinah, and Babs barely managed to hold in her laughter. Dick didn't, chortling in amusement. "You're _twisted_, Canary," Jay finally said, shaking his head. She just shrugged.

Tim arrived next, looking at them all dubiously as the laughter trickled away, but he evidently decided it was better not to ask. Helena had a date, so she wouldn't be in attendance, and that left Bruce and Selina as the last ones to arrive. Alfred came with them, bringing up the ice bucket and champagne and chilled glasses, but then he retired. The temperatures were a little too cold for him. Miss Kitty appeared at some point, stalking around all of them and stealing bites of cheese.

"Hey, Tim, how come you're not spending New Year's with the girlfriend?" Jay asked.

"Cassie's at her mom's. We'll see each other at Titans Tower tomorrow," he replied.

"That sucks. Guess you have to kiss Dick when the clock strikes midnight," Jay teased.

Babs turned to glare at him, but Tim only rolled his eyes, and Selina, curled up practically in Bruce's lap, just chuckled. Dick, of course, made ridiculous smooching noises until Tim pulled his scarf over his eyes.

"No roughhousing on the roof," Bruce warned.

"Jeez, no canoodling, no roughhousing, you guys really know how to ruin a party," Jay groused. "I could be on my own roof right now, half-drunk and probably half-naked."

Kala elbowed him fiercely, hissing his name, and Babs sighed aloud. "All _right_ already, you two. Yes, we get it, you missed each other, you're making up for lost time, et cetera, et cetera, ad nauseum. Could we _please_ have one family event where you two don't sneak off to have sex?"

"No, 'cause after midnight and champagne we are definitely going to go ring in the new year in style," Jay shot back. Kala just buried her face in his shoulder with a groan, and Babs knew she was blushing.

"That's not sneaking off, it's kind of expected," Dick said.

"Oh? Who do you have on speed dial, Mr. Grayson?" Dinah asked, arching an eyebrow.

"It won't kill me to spend a New Year's Eve with my family," Dick said, smiling. "Jay might die of togetherness though."

"Hey, leave me alone. I have a list I'm only about halfway through," Jay protested.

"You need to get to work. I'd been listening to Babs' voice for over a year before I got to see her face, and it was _months_ before I climbed in her lap in the damn chair and made her acknowledge the sexual tension," Dinah shot back with a superior expression. "I had a list, too, but I damn sure had more stuff checked off by the six-month mark!"

"For a month of that we didn't see each other at all," Jay retorted. "That only had me adding to the list. And sue me if we've got a few more possibilities than you do."

Dinah arched a blonde brow. "You have no _idea_ the possibilities that genius brain of hers comes up with. And I'm not sharing, either. Figure it out."

"No, you're not," Babs scolded. She'd intended to tease _Jay_ a little, not get trolled by her own lover.

"Whatever, she can hover, we've got you beat," Jay snarked.

Dick looked up at Jay and shook his head. "Sounds like this is gonna be worse than that time Alfred walked in, and we had to replace the curtains."

Babs almost choked on an olive. "Dick! Don't remind me! I won't be able to look Alfred in the face for a week!"

"Oh, so that's how it is," Jay laughed. "I heard about the Batmobile, I never heard about the curtains."

"I don't want to hear about _either_," Kala groaned.

"What can I say? We were young and athletic," Dick said with a shrug.

"No. We're not doing this," Babs said, glaring at him. "We are not comparing sexual misadventures. I'm not going to risk Bruce getting involved."

"I had no intention of contributing to the conversation," Bruce interjected quickly.

Selina just purred. "Stay away from the Jacuzzi, that's all I'm saying."

Kala muttered to Jay, "See, I told you, it's always the parents. The parents are always freakier than you think." Babs filed that away for future reference; whatever story was behind it sounded amusing.

"Would all of you please shut up?" Tim said with a long-suffering expression. "We've only got ten minutes to midnight." As if to underscore his point, someone fired off an early round of fireworks, lighting up the sky with blue and gold sparkles.

"Who's got the countdown?" Dick asked.

Babs had it queued up on her tablet, and all of them fell quiet to listen to the announcer.

…

Kala wrapped herself around Jay despite the stupid Snuggie comment. It _was_ cold up here, her warm breath frosting in the air, and the snow on the grounds made her think of their night in the cabin. Jay had really let his guard down then, and she felt her heart swell just remembering it. Strange, how someone she'd disliked so viscerally on first meeting could be so important to her now.

The radio announcer was just finishing up an interview, and now there were only moments left before the ball dropped and everyone on the East Coast rang in the new year. Kala sighed as the minutes ticked away. There would be a lot to worry about in the coming weeks, but honestly, she was more concerned with seeing Sebast again and figuring out _that_ situation than she was with Two-Face or Black Mask or even Joker. Yes, Joker had seen her face, but the next time she saw him would likely be the _last_ time he saw anything in this life. The rest … she'd seen Black Mask in action, and knew how cruel he could be. Two-Face was rightly feared, though she'd only encountered his men – and owed him one for trying to kidnap Julio and Carl and the rest.

She wondered for a moment how the kids were celebrating. They were still in very new circumstances, still had little adult supervision, but most of them had adapted well according to the reports she was getting. It wouldn't surprise her if Julio managed to score a bottle of champagne, and she smiled briefly.

"You're grinning," Jay commented, smiling back with that devilish gleam in his eye that she so adored. "Whatcha thinkin' about, K?"

_Asking you to come to Metropolis for this, next year,_ she thought, and knew it would probably freak him out if she said it. A year would give them both time to settle into the depth of intimacy between them. Perhaps Jay could finally relax, and understand that she wasn't something fate could snatch away from him. No matter what, he was one of hers now. She'd be by his side as long as he wanted her there – and he had amply demonstrated how much he wanted her there.

All she said was, "The really _good_ champagne, of course. Why else would I be here?"

"You're a jerk," Jay laughed, his ice-blue eyes bright in the darkness.

"And you were my trainer. I learned from the best," Kala shot back.

Everyone laughed at that exchange, and Jay mimed a punch at her side. Kala slapped his fist away, both of them chuckling.

"Hush, children," Dinah said, and Kala almost held her breath as the final countdown began.

_Ten… _

Jay tightened his arms around her waist.

_Nine… _

Kala ran her fingers into his hair, cold from the chill breeze.

_Eight… _

Dinah scooted up next to Babs, the pair of them sharing a fond look.

_Seven… _

Tim looked out toward the bay, and actually smiled.

_Six… _

Only Kala heard Selina whisper to Bruce, "Another year, and you _still_ haven't caught me, hero."

_Five… _

Bruce murmured back, "You're here. That counts."

_Four… _

Dick hugged Tim, apparently overcome by the moment, and Tim just groaned.

_Three… _

"Glad you're here," Jay murmured, his voice husky.

_Two… _

"No place else I'd rather be," Kala replied, just as softly.

_One!_

Cheers erupted over the radio, but Kala didn't hear them. Jay caught her chin and kissed her, firm and fierce, and she rang in the new year with the taste of his lips and the scent of snow in the air.

The fireworks started that same second, a long rattling series of booms from Gotham Harbor that lit up the sky in multicolored sparks. Kala finally drew back from the kiss, smiling at Jay, and in the safety of her own heart she whispered, _I love you, I love you, I love you._ He grinned back at her, and she let herself hope he was thinking the same thing.

"Happy New Year!" Dick yelled, squeezing Tim until he complained. Kala turned her head to laugh at him, Jay scowling at the intrusion on their moment.

With the way Dinah was sitting, Dick could only throw his arms around her legs in an awkward hug. She ignored him for a long moment, Kala's eyebrows going up – that was one hell of a lip-lock she had going on with Babs, but the two of them were entitled. When Dinah finally came up for air, she laughed at Dick. "Get your ex off my leg, Babs."

"Shoo, you love sponge," Babs said affectionately, and Dick clambered up to properly hug them both. And then Kala and Jay, with Jay grumbling and muttering complaints the whole time.

Dick turned to Bruce and Selina, and she hissed at him, snuggling even closer to Bruce. So Dick shrugged, and picked up Miss Kitty instead as she walked by him. Kala burst out laughing at the affronted expression on the cat's face; Dick kissed the top of her head and set her down quickly. Miss Kitty bolted, ending up atop the gable on the other side of Kala and Jay, and began frantically grooming herself.

"Jesus, do you know how lucky you are to still have a face?" Selina marveled. "You must've caught her by surprise; she would've shredded you for that."

"Look, it's New Year's Eve, I'm gonna kiss _somebody,_" Dick explained.

"Pass the champagne," Bruce said, effectively ending the discussion.

Once it was opened, and everyone's glasses were full, Bruce raised his to the rest of them. A particularly loud burst of fireworks drowned everything out, and he waited with a chagrined expression until it quieted enough for his toast to be heard. "To another year. May we all get through it safely."

"Another year," they all echoed, Jay smirking a little. The champagne was dry and delicately flavored, and Kala let herself savor it.

Of course the radio announcer had been wishing everyone a happy new year and thanking his sponsors. Now music cued up, and a ragged chorus from Times Square began to sing. Kala couldn't help herself, she had _always_ sung along, and she heard Dinah join her within the first few notes. "Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? Should old acquaintance be forgot, and auld lang syne?"

Much to Kala's pleasant surprise, Dick and Babs began to sing by the third line, tenor and contralto, and Selina joined them with a torchy mezzo-soprano. Kala flashed a grin at her, and then Tim and Bruce got into it on the last line, tenor and baritone. What shocked the hell out of her, though, was _Jay_ joining the chorus in a surprisingly tuneful light baritone.

All of them together sang, "For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne. We'll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne."

The second verse, Kala found herself singing with just Dinah, Dick, and Selina, since the rest apparently didn't know the words. "And surely you'll buy your pint cup, and surely I'll buy mine. And we'll take a cup o' kindness yet, for auld lang syne."

The second chorus brought all their voices back, and Kala closed her eyes, hitting every note as sweetly as ever. In hopes that the new year would be a little better, that maybe things would work out. Her eyes burned a bit, thinking of Sebast – old acquaintance could not be forgot, and she owed him a chance to salvage their friendship for old time's sake. Meanwhile she wanted, almost desperately, a chance to _have_ old times with Jay, for this to last long enough that she might cajole him into singing Christmas carols next year.

_I'll take a cup of kindness with him, anytime, anywhere,_ Kala thought, and smiled as the song ended and Jay grinned bashfully at her. "So I'm not a pro," he said.

"You sound fine," Kala told him, and kissed him again.

"You sound better," he pointed out.

"Four years of school, six years of singing professionally with vocal coaches and instructors and the whole nine yards, I damn well better sound good," she countered, and kissed him. "Hush. It's not about sounding like a pro. It's about being together."

Selina, meanwhile, was looking skeptically at Bruce. "I didn't even know you _could_ sing. What's _in_ this champagne?"

"Hey, it even got Tim to sing," Dick teased. "I'm impressed. Order a case or two, we might all develop a functional social life." That broke everyone into welcome laughter again.

…

The cold drove them all inside at last, and Bruce brought in the ice bucket and empty champagne bottle, while Dick brought in the glasses, so Alfred didn't have to worry about any of it. Jay put his hand gently in the middle of Kala's back, and she glanced up at him as another late round of fireworks boomed overhead. "Let's get out of here before Dick decides we need to sing Auld Lang Syne again," he muttered.

"Come on, you don't hate it," Kala said with an indulgent smile.

"No, I don't," Jay admitted. "But it's New Year's. You know what they say – what you do on New Year's, you'll do all year long. And I know what I'd rather be doing besides singing cheesy songs."

Kala chuckled, leaning against him as they slipped off toward the stairs. "I think that's supposed to be New Year's _Day_. And we're proving them right, about sneaking off every chance we get."

"It is New Year's Day, technically. It's like twelve-thirty, that counts. And I don't care; they're just jealous." He leaned in and stole a kiss that tasted like champagne.

"I think Tim and Dick are the only ones who have a reason to be jealous. Looks like everyone else is getting lucky tonight, too," Kala murmured with a little chagrin.

"Not as lucky as I am. Come on, I've got plans," Jay whispered, and saw that delicate blush rise in her cheeks. Fucking _hell_, he knew how filthy she could be when she wanted to, and somehow she still managed to blush when he talked the slightest bit dirty.

"Not in the hallway," Kala scolded, and he feinted as if to grab her, which resulted in the two of them chasing their way down the stairs from the attic to his room. Kala had to catch hold of the doorjamb to stop herself, and Jay skidded a little, grabbing her hips for balance. She laughed out loud, and he pushed her up against the door with his body weight, nuzzling the nape of her neck.

That cut off the laughter as Kala took a deep, shuddering breath, and Jay nipped her shoulder. "Open the door, Princess, unless you wanna give them a free show," he growled.

"You're that impatient to get working on that list?" Kala whispered, but she turned the knob, and the pair of them damn near fell through the door in their haste.

Jay hadn't stopped thinking about Selina's news, and what it meant for both of them, how careful Kala would have to be, since the moment the thief had told them Kala was in danger. He'd learned over the years how to compartmentalize, and he'd shoved the incessant worry off somewhere in the back of his brain, where it just droned on underneath everything else. Dinner earlier, and the fireworks show, and he thought perhaps now he could silence it for a while with a very pointed reminder of how very lively Kala was.

So he caught her close, breathing deeply of that candied-violet scent that clung to her hair, and told her, "Damn right I am. First thing on the list, I'm going down on you 'til you scream my name."

Kala actually gasped, her eyes going wide, her whole body shuddering at the thought. Jay kicked the door shut behind him and twisted the lock, not wanting to be interrupted. He pulled Kala close again and kissed her, deep and greedy, and she ran her fingers through his hair, arching up against him. "You okay with that, Supergirl?" Jay murmured against her mouth.

In all their nights together, she'd never let him finish her like that; she always got impatient and pulled him up to her, wrapping her legs around his waist. But by the way she reacted – and the dent in the apartment wall from the very first time he'd tried it – it wasn't that she didn't _like_ it. He just wanted to be sure.

Her eyes looked dazed with heat, and Kala's breathing had grown heavy. "Yeah," she finally told him. "Yeah, I'm _fine_ with that, Big Bad."

Grinning, Jay reached down to catch hold of her thighs, lifting her up. She caught his shoulders for balance, wrapping her legs around him, and once he had her, he looked her right in the eyes and said, "Nice choice of nickname when I'm planning to eat you up, K."

He expected that to break the heated moment, for Kala to smack his shoulder and laugh, and he had a comment about Riding Red Hood ready for her if she did. But instead Kala just gave a low chuckle, too turned on to roll her eyes at him.

Well then. Apparently she _did_ like it.

Now he had to make good on his promise, which was no hardship. Jay walked Kala over to the bed and laid her down on it, pinning her under his weight for a moment just to enjoy the feel of her arching up to him. He kissed her, lips and throat and neck and brow, savoring every inch of pale perfect skin. Kala was breathing faster, and tugging at his jacket; both of them were still dressed for the cold roof, and it was getting hot enough to shed those layers. Jay backed off her just long enough to throw his jacket aside and kick off his shoes; Kala was impatient, too, and pulled off her sweater along with her shirt. He went for her boots while she unhooked her bra, but the sight of her breasts distracted him, and Jay pinned her down again to kiss them reverently.

"God, _Jay,_" Kala breathed, throwing the bra aside and twisting underneath him to place his mouth right where she wanted it. He took her nipple between his teeth, knowing he could be as rough as he wanted with her and never risk hurting her. Kala gave a long, low moan as he laved it with his tongue, suckling hard for a few seconds.

He paused then, looking up into her darkened eyes. "That whole thing with the floating naked over my bed, ready to laser anyone who threatened us?" Jay growled. "That was hot as fuck, just so you know."

"Kinda figured, the way you … _ohhh, Jay_ … the way you acted after…" Kala murmured, her hands tangled in his hair again, pulling him closer.

"That was 'cause I was worried about them coming after you. _This_ is 'cause that was hot as fuck." Jay had always loved danger, and he remembered the frisson that ran down his spine when he finally read the Nevada Protocol. The woman under him, whimpering eagerly as he kissed and nibbled his way across her chest, was damn near a weapon of mass destruction all by herself. The adrenaline rush of making her come apart for him was incredible; it'd be worth it for that alone. But she was _so much more_. Fuckin' perfect for him, she _cared_ about him, she still didn't realize what she'd said to him on the verge of sleep but he knew it, and returned it, and for fuck's sake she made him want to spend time with her outside his city and outside their lives as vigilantes, because _all_ of her was worth it to him…

And if he kept thinking like that, he'd end up kicking off his jeans and taking her, and he'd made a promise. Jay loved going down on women; he was good at it, and he hadn't met a woman yet who wasn't pleasantly surprised by his skill and very turned on by his enthusiasm. Apparently other guys out there were slacking.

It was even better with Kala, because he couldn't forget what she was while he did it. She tasted like sunlight, like something fresh and bright and clean and just a little sweet, and it made her damn near addictive. Only he'd never gotten to do this as much as he wanted, because she usually got impatient.

Well, there was no patrol tonight, most of the city was too drunk to get into their kind of trouble, so he had plenty of time. He kissed his way down Kala's belly, feeling her breathing speed up in anticipation, and unbuttoned her jeans. She gave an urgent little whimper then, her hips rolling, and he grinned up at her as he tugged the jeans down. "Lookin' forward to it, Princess?"

"Always, with you," she managed to say, and _fuck_, that heated tone in her voice always did it for him.

Of course, pulling the jeans off bared her panties, and Jay couldn't help chuckling. Black, with silver glitter fireworks. "Do you fuckin' have panties for every holiday?"

"You should see the St. Patrick's Day ones," Kala chuckled, her eyes still dark with desire.

"Yeah? What's on them? A four-leaf clover and 'Get Lucky'?" he teased, running his fingertips under the edge of the hem.

She gave him a lazy smile. "No, just … 'Kiss me, I'm Irish.' It works. The Lane side is part Irish."

Jay just chuckled, and tugged the panties down and off, Kala obligingly raising her hips for him. She bit her lip, looking down the length of her body at him, and for a long moment Jay just savored that wanting look in her eyes.

Then he got to work, tracing his fingers down the inside of her thigh, and fitting himself comfortably between her knees. He wrapped one arm under her leg and up over her hip, his palm spread across her belly, mostly to keep his balance when – not if, _when_ – she bucked her hips. He could also feel the pace of her breathing, and know exactly how it was affecting her. She was absolutely bare beneath his regard, and even his breath on that sensitive skin made her shudder.

So he started slow, long lazy licks, his other hand curled around her thigh as she arched in appreciation. Jay took his time, building the pleasure slowly, exploring first to find everything she liked best about this. And God, the sounds she made when he did. When he had to stop for air, his panting breath made her groan, she was so sensitive. "Fuck, this is the most fun I can have with pants on," he murmured, and dove back in before she could make a coherent response.

The next time he had to pause, Kala told him in a husky voice, "You could … have fun … with the pants _off_. Jay, I _want_…"

"And you'll get," he replied, because regions south of the belt were definitely ready for action. This alone was a delight, just focusing entirely on her. Jay smiled, knowing she could feel it, and added, "Not yet. I want you like this first."

Kala whimpered, and he decided to be merciful and stop teasing her. Focusing his attention on the center of her pleasure, he licked and sucked at her until Kala's thighs clenched around his head, and she moaned his name aloud. _Damn, I hope she doesn't squeeze too hard and break my jaw,_ he thought, before deciding he didn't care. That'd be a hilarious injury to explain later – and her control had always been pretty good.

Her whole body arched up off the bed, and with one more lick he felt that galvanic shudder run through her. Kala cried out his name as she climaxed, burying her fingers in his hair, and for a moment she was grinding hard against his tongue to wring every last drop of pleasure out of the orgasm. Jay fucking loved every second of it, and when she fell back panting, he turned to kiss the inside of her thigh. "You have any idea how goddamn hot that is?" he asked her, his voice rough.

"Uh-huh," was all she could say, and he chuckled with a smug sense of satisfaction.

He _really_ wanted to shove his jeans off and climb her right about now … but it was too damn delightful, getting her off like that. "Let me know when you're ready to go again," Jay murmured, and saw those eyes of hers go wide again with surprise.

Kala whispered his name, her voice hushed, her eyes dark as only he got to see them. He just kissed her thigh again, looking up at her expectantly, and she bit her lip, nodding. Jay smiled, and said, "The best part of being the bad brother is, I get to have seconds of dessert. Who knows, maybe thirds too."

"You're not the … _oh, God!_" Kala started to protest him talking down about himself, as she usually did, and Jay cut her off with another lick.

He lost himself for a while, delving into her desire, savoring every moan and cut-off cry. Somewhere after her second orgasm, Kala started to sound muffled, and Jay glanced up the length of her body. It was a great view, her flared hips, her flat belly, her gorgeous breasts, and then her face … her hair mussed, her eyes lidded, her cheeks flushed. At some point she'd covered her own mouth with her hand, trying not to be too loud, and watching her try and fail to restrain herself was _so_ fucking gratifying.

Jay decided to add a couple of fingers, crooking up to find her g-spot, and Kala rewarded him by bucking _hard_ into it, the volume of her wail somewhat trapped behind her hand. Climax number three came soon afterward, and when Jay would've kept going, Kala finally pulled away from him, panting for breath. She swung one leg over his head and curled up on her side, shaking, but her voice was equal parts exhausted and amused as she told him, "No more … God, Jay, no more for now. My legs are like overcooked spaghetti. _God._"

Laughing in sheer delight, he swarmed up behind her, wrapping himself around her. She was still shaking a little, and Jay wanted her to feel held and safe in the aftermath. "Your legs are pretty fuckin' fantastic, actually. Although, whatever happened to super-stamina?"

"Oh fuck you and your smug tone. Ass," Kala laughed back, not sounding angry at all.

"Is that a pet name or a suggestion?" Jay teased.

"This again? You're developing another fetish, sir. Pet name, obviously. Trigger-happy asshole." She sounded genuinely tired, but warmly so, suffused with pleasure.

"I suppose the clit _could_ be considered a trigger," Jay mused aloud, and Kala started laughing.

"Jay, that's _terrible_. That's the worst joke you've ever made, and I've heard your Robin puns," she finally murmured, looking over her shoulder at him with a satisfied, sleepy smile.

"Sorry, top-tier humor isn't exactly easy when most of the blood in my body is currently being rerouted south of my navel," Jay joked. He wasn't being pushy – if she was really that tired, he could always go handle his situation solo; it was worth it to make her writhe and moan his name with just his mouth.

Kala bit her lip again, her gaze going lidded. "Mmm, poor thing. Considering all that effort you just put in, maybe we should do something about that, hmm?"

"You volunteering?" Jay asked, rocking his hips against her.

Her eyes rolled back, her breath catching. "Yeah … just like this, all snuggled up together. Slow, if you can."

"Slow is asking a lot, considering I just went down on you for like an hour," Jay told her, but chuckled indulgently as he shucked off his jeans. He'd try for her sake. There were condoms in the nightstand – and he needed to replenish his stock soon, they'd made some serious inroads on it during this past week. He rolled one on, and snuggled back up to Kala, running his hand up and down her side.

She reached back to stroke a hand over his hair as she shifted against him, arching her back. Her voice was soft, warm, and huskier than usual when she murmured, "I know. I also know that's all my fault. I'll fix that, I promise. But just for a little bit … please?"

"When you ask so nicely, Princess," Jay purred. He took his time, even now, caressing her breasts and hips and thighs, until Kala rocked her hips back and wrapped one leg over his. Then it was just a matter of finding the right angle, and sinking slowly into her. That little gasp, her head tilting back, followed by that throaty moan of hers got him every time.

It _had_ to be slow, no matter how much he'd teased earlier. Anything faster than this, and it'd be over too soon, his mind still full of images of Kala coming apart under his tongue. Jay set up a gentle, rocking rhythm, one arm around her so he could cup her breast, the other under her head. It felt like he was cradling her whole body, like this.

Kala always felt delicate in his arms, like someone who needed to be wrapped up in strength and protected – but Jay knew she was a helluva lot stronger than him. The contrast between her outward looks, and her inner strength, only made him want her more. He kissed her shoulder, keeping everything slow as she requested, and that only heightened the sensation for him. He could feel her hips rolling to meet him, hear every little catch in her breath, taste the salt on her skin when he kissed her.

She grabbed his arm, pulling it tighter around her with her head tipped back against his chin, and let out another little moan. "Jay … God, Jay, you feel so good… so _good_."

He picked up the pace then, breathing her name like a prayer. The rest of the world went away, so only Jay and Kala existed, and every roll of his hips, every arch of her spine, felt like the closest he'd ever get to heaven. Kala whimpered, "More … gimme more…" and the naked greed in her voice drove him wild.

Jay lost himself in the relentless rhythm, the pair of them close as two spoons in a drawer. They hadn't done it like this before, always face to face, and while he missed seeing the look in her eyes, Kala's thready voice let him know exactly how good it was for her. It felt deeper from this angle, somehow. All Jay wanted right now was to live in this moment, where the most important thing in all existence was the pleasure they built between them, the connection deeper than any words. He would do anything, _anything_, for her.

The pitch of her moans changed, and Kala's hips sped up, rocking back against him frantically. Jay caught hold of her hip and thrust harder, knowing she could take it, not caring if he was sore tomorrow. All he wanted to do was spill them both over the edge again. Not even a week of daily sex – more like twice daily – had even come close to dulling his desire for her. Jay wanted all he could get, and he intended to take it. "C'mon, K," he panted. "Come for me."

"Make me," she whimpered, tightening her grip on his arm. Jay damn near lost it right then, the blatant hunger in her voice overwhelming. There had never been a woman this perfect for him…

Conscious thought was gone, lost in the primal rhythm between them, and Kala cried out as she bore down on him. That was enough for Jay; he was lost, his vision briefly whiting out with the strength of his climax.

In the aftermath, he came back to himself, his arms around Kala as he struggled to slow his racing heart. "_God,_ Jay," she whispered breathlessly.

"Yeah, that," he managed to say, and chuckled. "_Fuck_, Kala."

"You did," she replied, and somehow laughter burbled up from his chest.

God, Kala was the only one he'd ever _laughed_ with in bed, and it said something about her that he could trust her to let down his guard and have a sense of humor at the same time. Jay nuzzled the back of her neck. "Yeah, I did. Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year," she purred, snuggling back against him.

At some point he was going to need a shower – he'd worked up quite a sweat – and he needed to take the condom off and toss it before they fell asleep, but for the moment, Jay just savored this. He'd rarely been so purely happy in his entire life.

"Jay?" Kala asked softly.

_Don't say it,_ he thought. It was on both their minds, but he didn't want her to say the words out loud yet. Just let him have this perfect wordless moment. Still, he replied, "Yeah?"

A pause, and she told him, "You're on my hair."

Both of them laughed again, in Jay's case with relief as well as amusement.


	49. But I Can't Find the Answer

Dark, close, stuffy air, the smell of dust and blood … Jay knew this place. The abandoned warehouse where Joker had killed him. "Fuck, this again?" he muttered, and his voice came out higher, sounding like the teenage Robin he'd been.

From somewhere nearby came Joker's ghoulish laugh, and Jay braced himself. He'd _done_ all this before, and survived it. Might as well get the beating over with. It was only a memory. "Come out, you sick fuck," he called. "We both know how this ends."

"Oh, no," Joker taunted, his voice a mocking singsong. "I'm not interested in the same old song and dance with _you_. You're not any fun anymore, Dead Hood."

Jay headed toward the voice. It was too dark to see, and his face was sticky. He moved as if in slow motion, swimming through some thick, viscous liquid. "Yeah, yeah, more stupid nicknames. Show yourself, Clown."

"I'd rather show _you_," Joker crooned, and Jay heard another noise. A soft, pained whimper. "C'mere, little Zombie Bird. I found someone _else_ to play with."

His first thought was Harley, but even in this hellish place he knew Harley was gone and safe. Selina? Shit, he had to stop Joker. "Leave her alone, you twisted sonofabitch."

"Come and see, _Robin_. I found a pretty new little birdie. Come see the _remix_." Joker's voice called him to a door, its edges bleeding green light like the Lazarus Pit, and Jay steeled himself to throw it open anyway. The Pit was its own nightmare…

No. Not the Pit.

Kryptonite.

Kala lay broken and bleeding at Joker's feet, her eyes rolling like a car-struck dog dying in the gutter, and Jay felt everything inside him give a great nauseous lurch at the sight. "_No!_" he screamed, trying to get to her, slogging through a river of blood … her blood, she was too strong to die, Joker could only hurt her more and more and _more_.

"Sweet, isn't she?" Joker said in disgusting, confiding tones, and brought the crowbar down right across her chest.

He _heard_ ribs crunch, saw blood fly from her lips when she screamed, and then Kala looked at him and _saw_ him. The look in those anguished hazel eyes broke something inside him. "Jay, _please! _Make it stop … please make it stop," she begged, her breath coming in shudders.

"Too late, _Jay_," Joker said, and hit her again. Kala screamed again, only with a somewhat liquid sound to it this time, her body jack-knifing in agony. Internal bleeding, it had to be. Kala, for all her strength and spirit, all that stubbornness he loved about her, was dying. Jay threw himself forward, trying to take the blow for her if he could, let Joker destroy him instead, shelter her with his own body, anything to stop this, _anything_.

Instead, he succeeded only in throwing himself out of his bed and onto the floor of his room at the Manor.

For a wild-eyed moment he didn't understand where he was or what was happening. Jay scrabbled to a half-kneeling position, ignoring the bruises on his side where he'd fallen. Instinctively, his hand shot underneath his pillow, and gripped the decoratively-carved hilt of his kris.

Reality seemed to return once he stood up, knife in hand. It was just another fucking nightmare, a little twist this time to really fuck with him. He was a grown man, not a teenager, not helpless. Joker was in Arkham, not gathering up a store of kryptonite. And Kala … Kala was sitting up in bed, looking at him worriedly, not a bruise or a scrape or a speck of blood on her. "Jay? Are you all right?" she asked.

He remembered her crying his name on a gout of blood, and shuddered, hard. Kala was up then, in the circle of his arms, reaching up to touch his face. "It's okay, Jay. I'm right here. We're both safe. That bastard is locked up. It's okay. Stay here with me."

Jay started to relax, to breathe out … and then remembered the knife in his hand. A blade that could actually cut that perfect Kryptonian skin, and holy _fuck_, the first time he'd woken from a nightmare, he'd actually _held it to her __**throat**__._ What Joker had tried to do, he'd almost _done_, before either of them realized the kris was actually a threat.

Dropping the knife with a clatter, Jay threw his arms around Kala and hugged her tight to him. "I won't hurt you, I won't let him make me hurt you," he mumbled against her shoulder.

She pressed her hands against his shoulders firmly. "No, you won't. I won't let him hurt you, either. We're safe, Jay."

_We're not safe,_ the voice of experience said bleakly in his mind. Neither of them had ever been, or would ever be, truly _safe_. Nothing in the world was. Jay had learned far too young just how precarious what the world called 'safety' really was, how thin the membrane between a normal life and tragedy … or between life and death.

"I held that fuckin' knife to your throat," he croaked out. "The first time, the first night, the first _nightmare_. I woke up with _that_ knife to _your_ throat, and we didn't even fuckin' know it could actually cut!"

"But you didn't hurt me," Kala insisted. "It doesn't matter what could've happened. You _didn't_."

"I coulda done it again tonight," he whispered, and shivered again. In those long agonizing seconds of _not knowing_, caught between dream and wakefulness, if she'd moved wrong he could've gone for her.

Kala pressed even closer to him, trying to give him some of her solar warmth. "You _didn't_. You won't. I trust that, Jay. I trust you with my life."

_You shouldn't,_ the voice of his nightmares said. Even before the gala, before finding out about the kris, he'd dreamed of Joker putting her in the line of his fire. And then in a waking nightmare he'd _watched_ Joker rake a knife across her throat. Hell, at one point he'd owned a huge-ass crate full of kryptonite. She _wasn't_ as safe as she thought she was, and he'd always been a magnet for trouble. If bad luck was electricity, the Todds went through life with a lightning rod jammed down the back of their shirts.

His breathing had sped up, and Kala cupped the back of his neck, making him look at her. "We're all right, Jay. Don't let him give you another panic attack. Just breathe with me."

All of the fear and anger and frustration in him seemed to ground at that phrasing, _another_ panic attack. "I don't get panic attacks," he snapped, shrugging out of her embrace.

Kala looked at him seriously. "Jay, come on. I talked you down from one before."

Anger burned cleaner than fear; anger let him _move_, let him control some part of his fate, instead of curling up shivering in terror. Jay paced, raking his hands through his hair to dissipate the nervous energy. "That was a one-time thing. Don't talk about it like it's some regular deal, like I have fucking PTSD or some shit. For fuck's sake, you're my lover, not my shrink, no matter how much therapy you had."

He expected her to blow up at that. It was a low blow, turning that on her, but Kala just sat down on the bed watching him. "Jay, we _all_ have PTSD. Including Babs. Definitely Bruce. It doesn't mean what you think it means."

Jay rounded on her, all hopped up on adrenaline and ready to fight. "Oh yeah? And what do you think I think it means?"

Kala's eyes had never looked so wise, or so timeless. She didn't give him a straight answer, though, knowing no matter what she said, he'd go off. "Jay, you're not bothered by that scar on your belly from fighting Black Mask's lieutenant. Why should it bother you to have another healed-up injury? That's what PTSD _is_. The brain trying to function around an injury. Just because it's mental instead of physical doesn't make it less real. And _all_ of us have been injured that way. It's why we do what we do. So kids like Julio and Carl don't have to go through what we did."

That took the air out of him. Tough-talking no-nonsense Julio, and too-smart-for-his-own-good Carl. Those damn kids were living the good life over in Metropolis. They'd damn near gotten in deep shit, because of him, but he'd saved them with a little help, and now both of them had a chance at a normal life. Something Jay had never really had.

He let out a huge sigh, and Kala patted the bed next to her. "Come here, you big handsome nerd," she said gently. Jay went to her; at some point last night, he'd put on boxers, and she'd thrown on a shirt, so at least he hadn't been pacing naked.

Sitting down, Jay met Kala's gaze. "Don't give me a speech about going to therapy, okay? It's not gonna happen. I have zero interest in digging up all the shit that's better off buried."

"Oh, Jay, for fuck's sake," she sighed. "Would you please stop trying to pick a fight? Haven't we been over this? I've told you that all you guys need it, but have I _ever _tried to drag you into going?"

He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to scrub away the lingering frustration. "No, you haven't. Shit, K, I'm not right in the head yet, I just woke up. Sorry."

"It's okay. I know. You wanna talk about it?" she asked softly.

Jay remembered the sound of her ribs breaking, seeing blood fly from her mouth as she screamed. "No," he replied shortly. One thing was for sure, he needed to drink more in the evenings. A couple glasses of champagne wasn't enough to shut down the all-night horror cinema special in his mind.

"Okay," Kala said, and reached out to pull him close so she could rub his back soothingly. Jay let himself lean on her, knowing she was strong enough to hold him.

But was she strong enough to hold back all his demons, too?

…

Sebast woke up to a feeling that used to be familiar, but had become less so of late: he was profoundly hungover.

Furry tongue, mouth that tasted like a sewer rat had slept in it, eyes dry and sticky and wincing from the light when he pried them open, sour stomach that greeted his return to consciousness with a foul acidic belch, and of course, the piece de resistance, the splitting headache like some tiny evil gnome was inside his skull with a sledgehammer, trying to batter his way out. "Oh fuck, I hate this shit," Sebast groaned, and tried to stand up.

Correction: he wasn't just hungover, he was also still drunk from the night before, because the room swayed and dipped around him. The crazy dizzy feeling made his nausea a thousand times worse. Sebast bolted for the bathroom, tripping over something that cursed at him in Spanish, and luckily made it to the toilet before throwing up what felt like every meal he'd eaten on this trip.

Trip? Oh, right, he was still in Ponce for the holidays. Last night was New Year's Eve, this was New Year's Day, and he was starting it off feeling like hell. Not to mention, there was no Kala around to tease him and cajole back to a semblance of humanity. If she'd been here last night, she would've made him drink enough water to ward off the worst of the hangover.

If she'd been here, he wouldn't have wanted to get completely blotto drunk in the first place.

When he was sure he was done puking, Sebast flushed the toilet and slowly stood up, gripping the edge of the sink for balance. The face looking back at him in the mirror was red-eyed, wild-haired, and haggard-looking. "You look like shit, 'mano," he told his reflection, and ran the tap for a moment to let it get cold. Then he drank from his cupped hands, slowly, letting his abused stomach settle between sips. He also splashed water on his face, and let it run over his wrists. His grandmother swore running cold water over the wrists would cure a headache, but it had never quite worked for Sebast. Still, he'd try anything.

"If you're alive in there, you owe me breakfast for stepping on me," Mikey said from outside the door.

Sebast's stomach lurched. "Don't talk about breakfast yet, I'll spew again. And what the hell were you doing sleeping on the floor?"

Mikey opened the door and looked in at him with a long-suffering expression. "_You_ decided at about one in the morning that you were gonna get on a plane to Gotham and go talk to Kala. Right then. You were gonna walk through downtown Ponce drunk off your ass. The only way I could keep you here was by sitting in front of the door."

Sebast winced at that, leaning back against the sink. "Shit."

"Yeah. You're not allowed to get that drunk again until you get your shit together where Kala's concerned," Mikey said.

"Look, I'm working on it," Sebast said irritably. "We still have four more days before we head back to Metropolis, and she's in Gotham right now anyway with the other guy's family. I have to talk to her, anyway, our agent is making plans to bring me back to the tour."

Mikey just shook his head. "I can't believe my gay brother has more girl trouble than I do."

"That's 'cause you don't _have_ girls, Mikey," Sebast said, giving him a tired smile. "The dark elf in your video game doesn't count."

"Blood elf," Mikey corrected, and Sebast managed a laugh. Mikey shrugged. "Look, if I have to spend the whole game watching a character run around, it might as well be a hot chick, right?"

"You ever get bullshit from other guys in the game about always playing a girl?" Sebast asked, genuinely curious.

"Nah. Usually they ask if I'm a girl, and I make my voice real deep and say, 'Do you want me to be a girl, daddy?' Then they freak out and call me a fag, and I get them banned for it." Mikey grinned.

"You're evil," Sebast said. He sighed, and looked at his reflection again. "I'm gonna take a shower, and try to take something for my headache, and then probably go back to sleep. I promise not to jump out the window and run for the airport."

Mikey nodded. "Okay. I love you, 'mano. You know that, right?"

Sebast blinked; they didn't do brotherly sentimentality all that often. "Yeah, I do. And I'm grateful for it. I love you, too, Mikey."

"Good. Fix this with Kala, I miss her." Mikey grinned roguishly at him.

"Yeah, I miss her too," Sebast sighed. Normally he'd make some kind of joke at Mikey's expense, but he was too tired and too heartsick to do it this morning.

Instead, as soon as Mikey went on his way, Sebast cranked up the shower. The water pressure was crap, but at least it was hot. And he knew he'd feel better once he cleaned himself up and got all the drunk-sweat off his skin.

What he needed, Sebast decided as he lathered up his hair, was to get himself into an actual _relationship_. It hadn't worked out with Javier, but that was because Javier was paranoid and jealous on account of being a cheater himself. Ever since then, Sebast had avoided anything serious, and just put all his relationship needs onto Kala. She was the one who gave him someone to talk to, someone to hold through the darkest night, someone he could share his deepest secrets with and not be ashamed.

And none of that was fair to her. True, Sebast had been that confidant for her, too, so it wasn't uneven, but the huge unspoken issue of attraction had been there like the proverbial elephant in the room. If they'd just _done_ something about it, stopped being afraid of what might change, maybe things would be different.

Now, to keep her, he had to find some kind of boundary. It'd be like surgery, in a weird way, trying to cleave himself apart from her, keep the healthy connections and let her have a real relationship with Jason Todd. Which would leave a bunch of severed connections on his end, and Sebast knew he couldn't be bitter about that. He'd fucked it all up. Well, they'd both fucked it up, but he figured most of the fault was his. He'd cared too much about his reputation.

It'd be better for both of them if he actually tried to date, for real, instead of just hooking up. Frankly, the Grindr game was getting stale anyway. Sebast had done more than his share of ridiculous screwing around – although he'd _always_ been as safe as possible – and he was tired of it. Eventually all the names and faces and bodies and cities just blended together in his memory, and he couldn't distinguish any of them from the others.

It was no way to live, really. If not for Kala and the band, it'd be a desperately _lonely_ way to live. Sebast wasn't sure how other musicians stood it. Then again, a lot of people in the industry were into drugs and other awful coping mechanisms. Strange, how a person could be lonely on a music tour, surrounded by bandmates and road crew and thousands of fans all the time, but Sebast figured most people were lonelier in their minds. A crowd didn't matter if there was no connection to them beyond the ephemeral one that came from stepping up to the microphone and throwing his voice over them like a net. All of that faded when the house lights went out and the band disappeared backstage. The memory of it could keep him going, but it wasn't enough. Usually after a show, he and Kala would be laughing and joking and horseplaying around, with each other and the boys, and it helped the comedown from a show to have the rest of them there. And later, when the high of being on stage wore off, he'd _still_ had Kala, the deeper and quieter bond between them that predated the band. Sebast had to find something else, stop putting it all on her, or he'd wreck their friendship and his own mental health.

He finished his shower and got out, annoyed that the guest towels in here were on the rough side. He missed his luxurious towels at home, the ones Kala bought from Bed & Bath. It'd been a few years since she worked their last, but she knew which lines were quality. God, he couldn't wait to get back home…

Sebast froze as realization walloped him over the head again: one of them was going to have to move out. He could barely stand to be in the house, the last time he'd been there. But the tour would wind up in a month or so, and then they'd both be back in Metropolis. Trying to fix his relationship with Kala, they _couldn't_ be in the same house all the time. The thought had crossed his mind before, but it kept swamping him. There was just _so much_ to untangle. Who got to stay, and who had to leave? Who got to keep the things they'd bought together? What, did they just split the towels and the silverware and stuff like that? It was too much like a divorce.

For a moment, he allowed himself to hope that they could live together again, once they got things straightened out. Hah, what a phrase. But then Sebast stamped out that thought. If he acted like that, he'd be no better than the 'nice guys' who were only nice to women in hopes that they'd eventually put out. He had to learn to live without Kala by his side twenty hours of the day, and he couldn't do it if he was just assuming he'd have her back somehow, someway, someday.

No. He had to be real about this. If Kala was in a serious relationship, she was either going to end up living alone, or living with that guy. No sane man would want his lover living with a guy with whom she'd had a complicated past. And Sebast knew that living together would let them slide back into all those comfortable routines that had gotten them far too close in the past, so close that boundaries vanished.

Maybe he could ask her for half the towels. Or at least advice on what brands to buy. He was going to have to outfit an apartment. He could live with his parents for a little while, he'd already been doing that, but to Sebast that would feel like a hermit crab trying to crawl back into an old shell that had gotten too small for it. And roommates … shit, he didn't want to deal with roommates. It'd been awkward at first, living with Kala, and he _knew _her. Trying to live with strangers sounded like a nightmare at this point.

Sebast perked up for a moment. Maybe he could get Mikey to move out with him. The kid needed a little taste of independence, and it would soothe their mom's worrisome heart if he still had brotherly supervision. That might work … although he'd have to have a serious talk with Mikey. This _was_ the kid who'd dropped a brand-new iPod and shattered the screen because he picked it up to change a song while his hands were still wet from washing dishes. He'd bought the new iPod to replace another one that had been in his pocket when he jumped in the pool. Also the kid who'd blown his lunch money for the week on some goofy helicopter toy that didn't even fly all that great, and then complained about being hungry. He wasn't the best with impulse control, when it came to money, or the best at taking care of his stuff unless it was a game console or a computer. _That_ crap would have to stop, if he was going to live with Sebast and pay half the rent and utilities.

Then again, Mikey had been mature and responsible enough today to make sure that Sebast didn't go wandering off drunk through downtown Ponce, which would probably result in getting his pocket picked at the very least. He had to give him credit for that. And besides, who could you trust if not your brother?

Sebast stepped out of the bathroom, headed back to his room, and dressed for the day. Then he went to find Mikey, who was probably in the kitchen hoping for breakfast, and bounce the idea of getting an apartment together off him. Papi would be pissed at Sebast for giving up _his_ house, but hell, Kala needed those windows and the sunlight more. She also needed the privacy more, to be able to pull of the whole superhero quick-change thing. And it'd be a good way of showing her that he intended to do right by her.

They had to fix this. Sebast wasn't giving up on his best friend anytime soon. Hell, he'd make himself befriend this Jason Todd, too. Whatever it took.

…

Lois stood on the balcony, looking over her city. She was bundled up in pajamas, a robe, and a coat, and was _still_ cold, but she wouldn't miss the early-morning view for anything. Just after sunrise on New Year's Day, Metropolis was quiet, little traffic in the streets below. The early light turned all the steel and glass to rose gold, and the chill air smelled faintly of coffee thanks to the big Maxwell plant a few miles away. Lois always loved it when they were brewing in the morning.

She sipped her own coffee, thoughtful in the dawn quiet. Christmas with Kala, Jason, and Elise had been lovely, but she missed both twins a little now. They were grown and living their own lives, and Lois knew how lucky she was that she got to see so much of them. With Sam in the Army, and Joanna off painting wherever artistic whim took her, Lucy didn't get to see all of her grown kids but once or twice a year. Thank God for Facebook and Skype and cell phones. Lois' kids could fly or jump over to see her anytime. That was sometimes a slight annoyance, when they turned up and cleaned out her fridge, but on the whole she felt very, _very_ fortunate.

And now she was going to be a _grandmother_ in the next month or two. That still felt surreal. Lois didn't think she was old enough to be a grandmother, never mind the increasing amounts of silver in her hair. And never mind that she hadn't felt old enough to have kids at twenty-seven, either.

She didn't feel _old_. Aging was happening, she couldn't ignore it looking in the mirror every morning, and the cold made her ache now in ways she never would've felt or noticed ten years ago. Lois knew full well she wasn't that twenty-five-year-old reporter anymore; she wouldn't be climbing under an elevator with a hydrogen bomb loaded onto it anytime soon. Mostly because her right arm wouldn't bear her weight that long – _thanks, Luthor, you ratfucking sonofabitch_, Lois thought, rubbing her shoulder.

Still. She felt old_er_. Not _old_. Lois felt too vital, too driven, to be _old_. In another twenty years, maybe she'd consider herself old, but not now.

Sometimes she looked at the new interns with their boundless energy, and remembered being like that. Staying up all night chasing a story, doubling down on coffee the next morning, and powering through the day without so much as a nap. If she tried that not, she'd be damn near hallucinating by lunch. Her body _insisted_ on a minimum of six hours' sleep per night, without which she felt like the record player she'd had as a kid, the one she'd slowed with her thumb on the disc to hear the singers' voices get all draggy and weird. Lois also had to admit that she could no longer eat an entire pizza, an order of hot wings, and two slices of cake by herself.

It was life. It kept rolling, and you either rolled with it or got left behind. For her, that meant figuring out what she needed to do to keep her feet, and maintain the drive that had still had everyone in the City office calling her 'Hurricane Lane'.

"Good morning, Ms. Lane." That velvety voice from slightly above her, and the hero floated down to smile at her. All of a sudden, she felt twenty-five again, looking at her favorite story – who happened to be her husband and the father of her kids.

"Good morning, Kal-El," Lois purred, giving him a wicked smile. The darkening of his royal blue eyes lit a flame of pride in her heart. There were cute young reporters all over this city, and though Superman had begun to gray at the temples, he was still very much a catch. But only Lois Lane – crow's feet and silver hair and all – put that look in his eyes.

"It is a lovely morning," he said, hanging in midair with the sun shining on his cape.

"Yes, it is. It'd be better if one of your friends in the League figured out a time machine for me," Lois replied, giving him a merry grin. "Looking at you makes me want to be twenty-five again."

"We'd just met when you were twenty-five," he pointed out. "If you _have_ to pick a point in time, I'd say … the year after we got married."

"Ah, but if I were twenty-five again, knowing what I know now, things would be different," Lois teased.

"If I were thirty again, knowing what I know now, they certainly would," he told her.

"Hmm. It'd be even better if I could have my twenty-five-year-old body back for a day. I remember how much energy I had, back then. I could get so much done." Lois smirked, knowing that would get a reaction.

"I really don't think we would get anything done, except one thing," Kal-El replied.

That got both of them laughing with the easy familiarity of almost twenty years of marriage. "You're good for my ego, hero," Lois finally said.

"And you're very good for my heart," he replied.

"_That_ is why I married you," she told him. "I mean, the other thing _helps_, but…"

"I married you because you're the most amazing woman I've ever met," Kal-El said. "In all possible ways and measures."

"Great, make me sound shallow," she teased.

"No. You're not shallow at all." Kal-El landed beside her, and as always, the nearness of him silenced her. No one else quite understood how Lois felt at a moment like this. Not even Elise, who had her own awe-inspiring man from another star – Elise had grown up knowing that Superman _existed_, that heroes like this were a possibility. Lois had not; Kal-El was a revelation, still. That the world could contain a being like him, with all of his power and all of his kindness … she couldn't help being stunned by it.

Lois sighed, looking at her husband with warm, adoring eyes. A thought crossed her mind, and it made her smile wryly. _Now if Kala could get herself situated, we could __**all**__ have a happily ever after._ Of course, Kala seemed to be trending in that direction these days…

"Something just occurred to you," Kal-El said. He'd always been able to read her expressions so accurately.

"I was thinking about Kala. I've got my happily ever after, and Jason has his. I'm hoping she's found hers. Our girl deserves it." Lois smiled, thinking of the girl who was so like her in so many ways – and so like her father, too.

"She seems very happy. So does Jay," Kal-El replied, smiling a little himself.

Lois looked off across the bay toward Gotham. "There's still the Sebast situation to figure out. And she is her mother's daughter – I didn't have my love life figured out until, what, thirty-two?"

"Sometimes it takes a while for everything to fall in line. I was thirty, myself," Kal-El replied. "We'll see what the new year brings for all of them."

"All we can do," Lois said, shaking her head. Of course he'd figured it all out years before she did – from the moment he'd met her, Clark had been infatuated. Lois had taken longer to be certain of herself, and of him. Kala was that way too; the only love she'd been completely certain of, outside her family, had been Sebast. He'd been the only one who _stayed_, the only one who fit. But he'd been missing out of part of her life. When the Blur made rare, occasional appearances, it wasn't a big deal. With Kala deciding to join the hero game in earnest, there would've been issues even if she hadn't fallen for Jay.

Kala had kept her secrets for the best of reasons … the same way Lois herself had the best of reasons for keeping her kids out of capes until they were in their later teens. But she knew where roads paved with good intentions could lead.

Lois shivered, and Kal-El stepped closer. "Are you cold?" he asked.

"Just a chill," she replied. "Let's go inside, though. I swear I feel the cold more every year."

That would've been a disheartening thought, but he drew his cape around her shoulders to warm her, and Lois stopped worrying about the cold. Or much else.

…

Kala woke up again later in the morning, wrapped up around Jay. The nightmare seemed gone; his brow was smooth, and he'd slept undisturbed, with none of the tossing she associated with nightmares. Right now he was completely out, and wouldn't wake until an alarm went off or she woke him.

She sighed, and gently stroked a stray lock of hair out of his face. His nightmares seemed to be happening more frequently … or was it just that she was here to witness them more often? She couldn't be sure without asking him, and Jay was in full defensive mode. Or at least, he had been in the middle of the night.

Another possibility occurred to her. Jay was being _very_ protective of her lately. This with Dent threatening her, and probably the rest of Gotham's sleazeballs targeting her too, had pushed Jay's stress levels through the roof. Maybe the reason why she hadn't been such a good dream-catcher lately, was because _she_ was the reason for the nightmares in the first place.

That thought made her stomach twist unpleasantly. How could she convince Jay that she'd be _fine_? He should know that, he knew she'd come to Gotham to get training that was more about controlling her powers than keeping herself safe. And even when she'd faced off against the rogues he didn't want her to deal with, she'd come out on top – through her _own_ abilities, and the ruthless survival instinct of her darker self. Jay didn't need to be so protective of her.

And yet, he couldn't help it. Kala understood that about him. No one had sheltered _him_ from life's vicissitudes, so he did everything in his power to protect other people. Just look at how he was about the kids. And how he'd been about her training. Jay had tried his damnedest to make her leave this town, and when that failed, he'd taught her as much as he could as fast as he could.

She'd had enough therapy to realize that Jay was afraid of being attached to anyone. He'd lost too many crucial attachments too brutally soon. Maybe that was why he'd dated both her and Donna – metahumans were harder to kill. His fear of loss was why he couldn't say those three simple words, _I love you_. The fact that all of his serious romantic relationships had been in love with someone else _in his family_ just made it worse.

Kala winced a little. She had her own complications; thank God it wasn't someone Jay knew, but still. It would've been better for Jay if she didn't have such an intense relationship with Sebast. And she was certain she wasn't using Jay as a substitute for Sebast, the way he'd been a stand-in for Bruce and Tim and Dick. She loved him for himself, and would've loved him no matter what else had been going on in her life. It was just that Jay was so deeply woven into the hero side of things, and Sebast was such a huge part of the rock star side.

Until recently, her two lives had been sharply divided. Only her immediate family knew that both existed, and she'd always told herself not to mess with capes. Jay had come completely out of left field; he was the most unexpected thing that had ever happened to her. She'd loved Sebast and didn't want him mixed up in the dangerous, difficult-to-believe side of things, but Jay was used to danger and he'd seen weirder things than her. She wasn't afraid to let him see the shadow in her soul, knowing he had his own dark side.

She had to trust in time. Jay would see eventually that she wasn't going to run off on him, and she wasn't going to be driven off by some madman's threats, either. Kala knew that if it came down to it, she could hold her own against the worst this town had to offer.

Jay was right about one thing. She had to keep the villains of Gotham from finding out what she was. If they realized she was Kryptonian, things would become _much_ more dangerous. Luckily, no one knew her full suite of powers, and metahumans were becoming more common. As long as she didn't react to kryptonite, no matter _what_ powers she had, it'd still be plausibly deniable.

…

Lex Luthor paced as the day's results scrolled across the monitors behind him. "We should be further along."

"Scion is making progress daily. We've already unlocked more about the crystal formation than we ever imagined was there to be discovered," Mercy told him.

"But not the _weapons_. Or their energy sources, which would be too easily weaponized according to that sanctimonious blowhard Jor-El. It wasn't _all_ solar and geothermal, especially not towards the end." He glared at the monitors showing the various research departments' progress, but didn't stop his pacing.

"You always knew the weapons would be the last thing unlocked," Mercy pointed out.

"Scion should be progressing faster. He mispronounced an entire sentence today," Lex retorted. "This is his native language! He learned Kryptonese before English!"

"He's also a _child_," Mercy replied. "Mistakes are to be expected, particularly when he's tired – and he kept at the program longer than the neurological team's recommendations, because he wanted to succeed for you."

Lex sighed, rubbing a hand over his bald head. "I suppose you're right. I can't fault him for wanting to be useful. How old is he now, anyway?"

She didn't need to consult her notes. "Chronologically? Seven years, two months since he was removed from the birthing matrix. In terms of development, with the cloning program's acceleration during the first few years, he's more like eight or nine."

"I thought he was younger. I was off by a year," Luthor muttered.

"It's not easy to keep track of," Mercy replied. "Particularly when you factor in the accelerated development, and the fact that you're comparing to _yourself_, and you were especially precocious. I'm dating it relative to our move to this facility."

"That's right, he was the only success out of all our attempts when we first got here. That _was_ almost eight years ago now. My, how time flies." Lex resumed his pacing. "He seems undersized. Are we sure he's getting the right nutrients?"

"As near as we can tell. The nutrition team is offering a variety of foods to track his preferences. So far he seems to seek out certain trace minerals and proteins, and the team is supplementing his diet with those. It's an inexact method, but specific nutritional requirements weren't included on the crystals' programming. Jor-El appears to have assumed that all required nutrients were available on the planet, and his heirs would seek them out as necessary." Mercy shrugged; given that all the descendants of the House of El had superpowers, they could find whatever they needed anywhere on the planet. Typical Kryptonian, assuming their species' supremacy wherever they might land.

"How are his verbal and mathematics skills, relative to his developmental age?" Luthor asked.

"Well above average," Mercy replied. "He's in the 99th percentile in math. Of course, we've accelerated his learning to match his intellect."

Luthor sighed. "We should have accelerated his growth more. I despise waiting. With the cloning program, he could be a teenager now."

"And if we'd done that, we would've sacrificed the time necessary for important mental development," Mercy reminded him. "Some of Project Replica's issues are the result of translation errors in the cloning process, and some of them are likely from a lack of normal development. The cloning program was intended to create spare parts, not functioning sentient beings. You were the one who decided to be conservative with the accelerated growth, Lex. And you were right to do so."

He looked chagrined at that reminder. "You're right. I'll have to learn to tame my impatience. I just can't wait for the day we can turn Scion loose."

Mercy smiled at that thought. "They _really_ don't know what's going to hit them."


	50. To a Buried and a Burning Flame

**Authors' Note:** This chapter was first written down in January 2020. The events of the next three chapters were planned and discussed beginning in 2010. Anything that seems unusually topical for our times is a coincidence.

Also, those of you who have been enjoying the journey but suspicious about our motives ... we have now reached the part where you'll want to fasten your seatbelts, return your tray tables to the upright and locked position, and stow your bags back in the overhead bin.

* * *

Jay woke up and stared at the ceiling, shreds of his nightmare and the almost-argument after it still clinging to him. He felt weirdly divided, like he'd been living two lives ever since about Christmas Day. In one life, he and Kala were together almost constantly. He went to bed with her snuggled up beside him and woke up to those gorgeous eyes staring into his. She joked with his family, praised Alfred's cooking at every meal, fought at Jay's side, and when they were alone she slipped into his arms and kissed him until he thought he could die happy. She'd even swept him away to her family's cabin for a brief escape from his normal life and all the concerns that came with it. Every moment of every day was damn near perfect. This was the life everyone else saw, the face he tried to put forward, the life he wanted to live.

In the other life, every moment of every day was haunted by nagging anxiety. Jay didn't get _perfect_. He never had, and never would. Both nightmares and real events kept reoccurring to him, playing through his mind like an endless highlights reel of worst possibilities. Kala getting kryptonited when they first confronted Joker. Kala getting fear-gassed by Scarecrow. Joker's mocking laugh and Kala's eyes gone blank beneath _his_ bullet-hole in her forehead. Kala looking at him like a stranger with Poison Ivy's control running her. Kala in Joker's arms, a knife to her throat, the Clown's sinister voice as he raked the blade across, and the horrified surprise in Kala's eyes. That knife had been harmless, but Jay had held a far more dangerous blade to her throat before. And of course, last night, Joker staving in her ribs with the goddamn crowbar while she screamed for Jay to make it stop.

There'd been other villains, but Jay saw the common thread in the worst of it: _Joker_. Kala wasn't afraid of Joker, that was the thing. Oh, she thought she was, but really she just wanted to kill the fucker. For _him_. Her rage, her dark side, tended to take over, and the Empress wanted to stamp Joker out like a cockroach. Which – little though K would admit it – left her vulnerable. Fear was a survival instinct. Way down deep in his soul, Jay could admit he was afraid of Joker. He just let that fear make him cautious. If not for caution, he would've hunted the bastard down long ago.

That sweeping righteous anger that Kala felt, it crowded out fear, it made her blow past caution and fucking _offer_ herself as a hostage at the gala. And Jay was all too aware of how that night at the gala could've ended. If Joker had had a knife that could cut Kryptonian skin, if he'd had kryptonite to bypass her invulnerability, the only person fast enough to get her to the hospital in time would've been the one bleeding out. If there had to be a sacrifice, it should've been anyone else. Not Kala herself.

Or it could've gone the other way. Jay knew that, too. She could've just grabbed Joker in both hands and wrung him like a dishrag. That would've been wonderful for about fifteen seconds, until Bruce inevitably lost his shit. And until the public realized they had a Super-killer running around. K was just a little too reckless in the moment, not thinking about what it would do, what it would mean. If she got outed in such gruesome fashion, her band and her friends were in danger. Her whole family would be outed, someone would figure out that KLK was Kala Lane-Kent, and hey, guess who Lois Lane was always associated with. Then, if one twin was super-powered, the other one surely was, too, and they'd be looking at her brother. Her father would get outed too, he'd managed to stay hidden because no one could believe Superman wanted to be human, but the evidence would mount too high and the clone story would fall apart. Lois would be discredited for sleeping with her story, too. What kind of reporter would marry a hero in secret and actively help him hide that monumental truth? Everyone in Kala's family would get hounded by the press.

And if Superman's daughter was branded a cold-blooded killer, the whole JLA would come into question, too. Jay could see it all falling apart; people _trusted_ heroes, Superman most of all. The public assumed – naively, perhaps – that he was the ultimate good. Wonder Woman was a warrior first and foremost, Batman was an urban legend born of fear, but Superman was the one they all looked to as purely a _good guy_. His debut had included rescuing a _kitten_ from a _tree_. All that power, and he was just … _good_.

If he could sire a killer, maybe all of Luthor's frothing bullshit had a kernel of truth to it. And if the public began to fear _Superman_, out of all of them, that business of registering and legislating the heroes would start up again.

Jay knew he was thinking like a Bat, lining up the worst-case scenario in order to prevent it happening. The problem was, he _couldn't_ prevent Kala from doing something like that. She'd proven time and again that she was just too fucking fast for him to steer. If she saw someone in danger, she'd act. If she saw _him_ in danger, if she saw his nemesis looming, then she'd act even more decisively.

And either way it went down would be a disaster. Either Kala would get herself killed, underestimating Joker because he was just human and she was half-Kryptonian, or she'd murder him and set off a chain reaction that could rattle the JLA itself. Not that Jay even wanted to be part of that particular organization, but people had to believe in _something_.

He couldn't escape knowing there was one reason why Kala was mixed up in this, why she'd found herself in the Joker's sights. _Him_. Jay had told her the whole truth, he'd laid it all on her from the vaguest hints way back over drinks in Seventh Circle to the fucking autopsy report in his file. All the trauma, all his nightmares, shit, she'd _been_ there for some of it. Kala _knew_ the one thing he tried to keep hidden behind bravado and violence, the one thing he thought maybe Bruce didn't even realize with all his Bat-omniscience: Jay himself was still fucking scared of the Clown.

Because Kala knew _that_, she'd set herself between them. Willing to be the shield that protected him or the laser-vision that burnt his fear to a crisp. Forget all the bad guys in this town having her in their sights. Joker was in _her_ sights, she'd looked at the craziest, scariest, most dangerous fucker in Gotham and coolly decided he had to go, because he'd messed with someone she _loved_.

Love was dangerous. Jay had known that for a long time. Talia was the living proof, one of the deadliest people on the planet, and her hands were tied by love. She was being strangled by it, caught between Bruce and her dad, and the worst part was she wouldn't save herself even if she could. Once upon a time Jay'd had the mad thought that the two of them could chuck their fucked-up pasts _together_, and all it had gotten him was a broken heart and betrayal and the most brutally polite let-down in the history of mankind. _I'm flattered,_ Jesus fuck, he'd been so damn careful where he gave his heart ever since.

Rose had done him a favor and skipped out before it got too real, Donna had just underlined the particular lesson that love wasn't for guys like him, it was always for someone else, and Jay had been comfortable ever since with avoiding love and family and all that fuzzy warm bullshit. Then Babs sent him cookies, and he might've come to terms with Alfred eventually, but then there was Kala. She came from out of nowhere, he never would've expected a fucking Super in Gotham.

And his stupid _heroic_ instincts started screaming at him to get her out of Gotham before she ended up like Steph and Babs and every other woman who thought a brave heart and a quick fist were enough to survive Gotham. You needed paranoia and bloody-mindedness and a shitload of training; it wasn't any kind of place for a _singer_ on _vacation_ to visit and do a little vigilantism on the side.

Except, Kala wasn't what he'd thought she was. She was a whole lot more badass than that. A whole lot more _dangerous_ than that. She was like _him_, broken and scarred and even more determined because of it, and once she'd set her teeth in the hero game she wasn't going to let go. She'd become not just the perfect partner, she was his _friend_, and the sexual attraction had been insane. Jay had done everything he could to run her off, and she'd just wrapped herself closer around him, gotten more intense, more protective.

Kala could've scooped his heart out of his chest any time, and murmuring that she loved him on the edge of sleep had been the first time he'd heard those words since he was fifteen and _hadn't_ panicked at the shape of them. Kala was sunlight, blazing through Gotham's fog, and everything was clearer and brighter with her around.

He'd forgotten sunlight could burn him, too.

Now he was here, and all he wanted was to keep her, but that thought made him nauseous. Jay had long ago conquered the fear of heights, but he remembered his training as Robin, looking down at the yawning canyon between buildings. Only a measly four-foot hop, he knew he could jump ten over the flat, and Batman was right behind him, ready to catch him if he somehow missed. Safe as houses … but fear _was_ a survival instinct. His body hadn't wanted to move.

Thinking about saying _I love you_ to Kala left him just as queasy. But much to his own shock, Jay had at some point realized that, somewhere in these last couple of months, he didn't want anyone else to catch him; he _wanted_ to fall, he wanted everything that was waiting at the bottom of that dizzying drop. What the fuck, maybe a ring and a house and maybe a fucking picket fence, too. Shit, he owed Donna an apology, he'd wondered aloud how someone like her could ever want to be _normal_, and here he was thinking of Kala like it was the last three minutes of a sappy rom-com, all the happily-ever-after shit.

Except Jay knew fully goddamn well there _was_ no happily-ever-after. Not for him, or people like him. He couldn't turn his back on Gotham, couldn't ever stop being what he was – vigilante, antihero, whatever this fucked-up city needed that particular week. And as long as he was Red Hood, he was just as screwed as Batman. They didn't get personal lives, they didn't get tender romance, all they got was whatever scraps of human feeling their training and the demands of their profession left them.

He couldn't conscience dragging Kala any further into that. _She_ could be like her father, live two lives, and let one of them be real. Something untouched by the nightmares in Gotham. If Jay tried to keep her, he'd end up being responsible for her getting killed … or going dark.

And _still_, some stubborn selfish part of him wanted with everything he had to keep her. It was like he didn't know how to breathe without her anymore, she'd become so much a part of his life now. The food in his fridge and the way he snorted laughter any time he heard the name George and the scotch that sometimes didn't get opened for three days at a stretch and the in-jokes with Babs and Dick and even _Tim_, for fuck's sake, all of that was because of Kala.

What could he do? What could he _possibly_ do? Half of Jay was screaming that he'd be the death of her, or worse, ruin everything she thought she stood for. The other half was eyeing jewelry stores he drove past on the street. It was hell, to be so divided. And worst of all, Jay had no idea how to choose, how to collapse both halves of his mind into some coherent whole that would let him – and Kala – move forward.

One thing he knew for certain, he couldn't stay like this. His indecision left him ripe for fate or foe to destroy everything he cared about. A line from a horror novel he'd read years ago, before his life started to look like one, rose in his mind. _Take what you want … and pay for it. _

But who would ultimately pay the price? If it was Jay himself, he could handle that. If it was Kala…

He wouldn't let himself think that. He scrubbed his hands over his face, and got up to start the day, resolutely shoving the whole conflicting mess aside once more. Somewhere in this house, there was coffee, and breakfast, and Kala. Jay got ready to go in search of all three.

…

Kala was up before Jay, and after the nightmare last night, she decided to let him sleep. She headed downstairs thinking she'd make coffee and sit out by the pool, letting the winter sun lend her all the strength it could. It was too cold out there for anyone else, but she didn't mind the chill. It would help wake her up.

She found that Alfred had already been up and started the coffee, so she poured herself a mug and glanced through the fridge, discovering an overlooked pumpkin pie. Kala cut herself a slice for breakfast and topped it with whipped cream before heading out to the pool. It was covered; despite being heated, no one would be swimming in this weather. But the glassed-in enclosure was out of the wind and warm enough for a Kryptonian.

This was New Year's Day, she realized after finishing the pie. She hadn't told Jay that her adventures in Nevada had taken place starting on New Year's Day. Eight years ago today, she'd been hurt and embarrassed and ashamed. Grounded, too, for breaking curfew the night before and everything else. Especially fighting with her mother; that night had occurred during the worst of Kala's identity crisis, constantly compared to Lois and never feeling like she measured up. The actual fight had been ugly. Lois' scathing tongue had turned on her own daughter, mostly because she was already upset with Kal-El for leaving in the middle of the party. And then Kala had screamed at Lois that she couldn't judge, she'd been just the same at Kala's age, and Lois in an instant of outrage and hurt had slapped the words from her mouth.

Kala knew now that Lois regretted that split-second more than anything else in her life. No other mistake had led to anywhere near as much pain. Lois had told her once that if she could take back anything, _anything_, she'd take that back. Not even stepping out of cover and getting shot by Luthor compared to the sense of betrayal Lois felt. Right after she'd slapped Kala, she'd seen the hurt and horror in her eyes.

But by then it was too late, and Kala _was_ so very much like Lois. She survived pain by turning it into anger, and she'd wound up to return the slap … with interest. Only her _father_ had arrived just in time, and had thundered at her that she _dared not_ do such a thing. Kala had the strength, after all. If she'd lashed out at Lois, she might have killed her.

It was no secret that Kala was a daddy's girl. Having _him_ furious at her, even if he'd only been angry for a few moments, had shattered her heart. The next morning, her sweet dork of a brother had let her borrow his phone to talk to her best friend, since that was the best way he could think of to cheer her up. And Sebast had _already heard_ about the night before, how Kala had been making out with Nick and come home covered in hickies. Only Sebast had heard a more salacious version of the story, and when he asked her about it, Kala had realized Jason's bitch of a girlfriend Giselle was running her mouth to everyone they knew, spreading rumors about how Kala had handed over her v-card to a college boy.

At the time, in the throes of adolescent melodrama, Kala couldn't face her family or her friends. Sebast actually believing the rumor, even for a moment, was one betrayal too many. So Kala had packed her bags and fled, taking the secret cash stash in the freezer that Lois half-jokingly called 'the running money'. With three grand and superpowers, she should've been able to look after herself for a while.

Except Luthor had been waiting for just such an opportunity. That same day, Kala had been captured, drugged, transported, and woken up in an underground facility in Nevada staffed by scientists who looked at her like some kind of interesting bug to be dissected. And Lex's security staff … their interest in her was much baser. Kala had fought, but she hadn't had invulnerability then, and she'd been badly outnumbered.

Dru-Zod had saved her.

Kala let herself remember her first sight of him. She'd recognized him immediately as her father's enemy – in fact, the enemy of her entire family. Sixteen years hadn't changed him much, beyond adding more silver to his hair. He still stood with the same military bearing, his eyes were still as keen and cold as the holographic recordings from his arrest on Krypton. And yet, he hadn't recognized her for what she was – he'd saved her without knowing she was of his kind.

Few villains were completely evil … Joker being the notable exception in Kala's estimation. Lex Luthor was pretty close behind him. But Scarecrow was entrapped by fear caused by abuse, much the way his victims were. Poison Ivy wanted to protect the planet. Harley Quinn sacrificed a great deal to keep her daughter safe. And Dru-Zod, though a captive of Luthor himself, was too chivalrous to permit a woman to be assaulted.

Where was the line separating them from someone like Jay, who had killed for a cause? Innocence, Kala thought. Jay would never kill an innocent. He'd risk his life to save them. Dru-Zod would have killed thousands of people, maybe hundreds of thousands, if her father hadn't stopped him the first time. Or if she hadn't stopped him, the second time.

Kala sipped her coffee in the weak winter light, and stared out across the still pool, into memory. Those events were one reason why she wanted to be here, with Jay, on New Year's. Her own family couldn't help remembering all of it. Lois still had scars; she'd regained the use of her right arm, but she wasn't as strong. Kal-El tended to watch both of his children more closely during the first week of the year. None of them could help it.

But Kala didn't _want_ to remember. Jay knew what had happened to her, but he hadn't known _when_. So for him, this was just a normal New Year's. Well, it was strange for him to be back in the Manor, but he wouldn't treat the day as a solemn anniversary of nearly losing his family or his life. With him, she could pretend it was just another day.

Maybe this New Year's would be better than all the ones in those intervening years. Kala certainly hoped so. With the turning of the year, she had to face Sebast again, finish her band's tour with whatever manager the label gave her, and maybe start chipping away at Jay's fear of attachment. He wasn't going to lose her; she wasn't going to give up on him like everyone else had. Jay had done so much for her – thanks to him, she had a better handle on the Empress, and Kala could envision a day when her shadow-self was just another part of her, not a separate, alien presence in her mind. For that alone, she owed him everything she could give.

The door opened behind her, and Kala heard Jay's heartbeat. She smiled and sipped her coffee as he walked quietly up to her chair. "Sitting with your back to the door is bad form," he told her.

"I can hear you breathing," Kala replied, and tilted her head back to look at him upside down. "Good morning to you, too."

Jay bent over her and kissed her. "Good morning. It's cold as fuck out here. Wanna come inside with the non-solar-powered people?"

"Actually, in my experience 'fuck' tends to be hot, not cold," Kala teased.

"It is if it's you," Jay laughed, and kissed her again.

She got up and carried her coffee and her now-empty plate back inside. For a moment, Kala thought of telling Jay what this day meant to her … and then she decided to keep it to herself. "What's on the agenda for the day?" she asked him.

"God only knows," he sighed. "I checked my phone on the way down. Black Mask made bail, he's getting out tomorrow. Two of the doctors who agreed to testify against him suddenly recanted, too. It's the same old shit – he found a threat that works. Probably they have families."

"Bastard," Kala grumbled.

"Yep," Jay agreed. "So it's probably gonna be keeping Sionis' boys, Dent's boys, and Joker's boys from mixing it up in the streets while all the decent people are trying to sleep off their hangovers. Not to mention seeing what else in the East End has a harlequin tag on it now. I don't like it, K."

"Why not?" she asked. Jay was pretty firm about viewing women as equals, and she wasn't sure why that in particular earned his ire.

Jay stretched his back with a grimace. "Because the women in the Bowery are _tough_. If this catches on and they all start pulling together, well, they outnumber the gangs. And every woman I know who's ever decided to stop taking shit and start dishing it out has turned out to be one hell of fighter. I mean, just look at the Amazons. I'm all for them standing up for themselves. About damn time, really. It's just that the men are going to freak the hell out, and things will get ugly. That means a lot of work for us. And probably a a lot of bloodshed, too."

"Just another day in Paradise," Kala said, and that won her a small smile.

They stopped in the kitchen, and Jay rummaged through the fridge in search of sustenance. Kala washed her plate, wondering where the rest of the family was, or if they were even up yet.

As if her thought summoned him, Dick appeared in the doorway. "Good morning, kids," he said, his eyes sparkling. "Are you ready for a Wayne Enterprises luncheon?"

"_Fuck_ no," Jay growled. "I wasn't invited, I'm the black sheep, I haven't had my suit dry-cleaned since the gala, and also, fuck no. I don't do corporate luncheons. Be glad I did the charity masquerades."

"Aw, come on," Dick wheedled. "It'll be fun."

"You're a sick, twisted soul if that's your idea of fun," Jay replied.

Kala stepped in then, looking up at Dick with her best cajoling expression. "C'mon, Dick. No one told either of us about this luncheon. And we really don't want to be in the limelight. After my slip-up in Denver, the last thing we need is to get photographed together."

"Yeah, we might not wanna draw any attention to Kala. Joker's already seen her face," Jay added quickly.

Dick frowned. "You're right. And I wouldn't even _dream_ of suggesting that you come along and not bring Kala."

"We'll stick around here and keep Alfred company," Kala said. "I'm assuming you, Bruce, and Tim are going?"

"Of course. We all skated out of the gala early – for obvious reasons – so Lucius Fox is insisting that we show up in public. Apparently there's a rumor that one of _us_ was hurt or killed that night." Dick shrugged.

Kala grimaced. "People really have nothing better to do than gossip. I thought Capespotting was bad; you guys get the TMZ crap the same as I do."

"Yeah, you don't need me in that photo op anyway. I'd just stir up more questions," Jay said. He'd pulled out the same pie Kala had found, and was slicing off a piece.

Dick gave them both an arch look. "Is it safe to leave you two unsupervised? I don't want to come home and find Alfred traumatized because he caught you having sex on the piano or something."

Kala couldn't help blushing. Of _course_ they all knew why she and Jay spent so much time locked away in his room, but she didn't need to get called out like that! Or have it implied that _Alfred_ might catch them!

Jay just snorted. "What do you think this is, fucking _Pretty Woman_? Also neither of us would _ever_ do that to Alfred."

Dick had no answer to that, and Selina's arrival didn't help either. "_Pretty Woman_ is more my speed, I think. Gorgeous, self-reliant woman meets stupendously rich, emotionally constipated man. Shenanigans ensue." Miss Kitty was riding on her shoulder, and yawned at all of them. "Good morning, kids. I've done the piano thing too, by the way. It's very uncomfortable. Not to mention distracting."

Kala rolled her eyes at that, but waggled her fingers at Miss Kitty, who stretched out a paw and flexed her claws. That got a chuckle from Kala.

"Yeah, piano's not my thing. It's a rich guy type of stunt to pull," Jay teased.

Kala shot him a venomous look. "Jason Peter Todd, if you say _one more word_," she growled. She didn't even want to _know_ what he considered an appropriate equivalent.

For a second, Jay just looked confused … and then he started laughing. "I wasn't even thinking of anything, K. _Now_ I am."

"Shut up, Robin," she said.

"She used your whole name, _and_ your code name. I think you should listen," Dick added.

Jay just sighed. "Okay, fine, I'll be good. Not like Selina wasn't stirring up trouble already. I'd ask how you slept, but I don't want to know."

"Like a cat, of course. Somehow taking up most of the bed despite being significantly smaller than the person whose bed it supposedly is," Selina replied. "What's for breakfast?"

"Pie," Jay said.

"I was going to have cereal, but pie sounds good," Dick said.

"And I'll have some yogurt, because I wear a catsuit and don't have a super-metabolism," Selina said.

"I can't eat a whole lot anyway, we've got that luncheon," Dick said. "Which, we're leaving Kala and Jay alone in the house. If you're going to be here, you might want to hide in your room."

"Okay, seriously," Kala said, crossing her arms. "We're not _that_ bad."

"No, but it's fun to tease you. I need to swing by my apartment anyway. Someone has to feed the cats," Selina said. Dick got out his pie, and she stepped toward the fridge, hunting for something less caloric. Miss Kitty kept her balance delicately.

"Just for that, when we're done with breakfast, I'm going to throw her over my shoulder and haul her back upstairs," Jay said grumpily.

"No one would be surprised," Selina told him, arching a brow.

Jay stuck his tongue out at her, and Kala laughed at that playfulness in him. Miss Kitty took the opportunity to leap across to Kala's shoulder, sniffing interestedly at her hair. "Well hello, gorgeous," Kala said, reaching up to let the cat sniff her hand before trying to pet her. She was rewarded by Miss Kitty pressing her face against Kala's fingers – which not-so-coincidentally let her feel the tips of her sharp canines. Kala smiled and scratched under her chin.

Selina grabbed a spoon, pulled up a chair, and settled in to eat her yogurt. Dick took the seat beside her, and Jay sat down too. Kala and her coffee rounded out the group, and Miss Kitty jumped down to the table, sauntering over to Dick to try stealing some whipped cream off his pie. As they teased one another back and forth, Kala basked in the warmth of a second family. It might be a bit stranger than her own – and that was really saying something – but the closeness and care were the same.

Elsewhere in Gotham City, other families were not having such a peaceful New Year's Day.

…

Babs had a headache. It would've been better if she could blame it on the champagne, either the glass she'd had on the rooftop or the second glass once she and Dinah were home at the Clock Tower, but this headache was strictly work-related. She leaned toward her screen, scrolling through several feeds at once in search of more data.

The holiday _should've_ settled things down. That was why Bruce and the boys had gone to the Wayne Enterprises luncheon. The gangs were momentarily quiet today, though her data showed a steady uptick in violence over the past week, a trend she dourly expected to continue. Some of it was Joker pulling strings from inside the asylum, some of it was Black Mask making bail and his people scrambling to get things in order. With Sionis and Dent soon to be brawling in the streets and Joker's thugs gleefully stirring up as much trouble as they could, the cops and the Bats would have their hands full keeping a lid on it.

Her main concern today had to do with the harlequin graffiti still popping up on the worst side of town. Harley Quinn's defection from and thorough ass-kicking of the Joker had made the rounds, and grown in the telling until it inspired imitation. Babs had always been aware of the kind of women the Bowery bred: either they had a deep steel in their souls, that bore up with quiet or blatant defiance depending on their nature and circumstances, or they faded away beneath the heavy fists and heavy boots of life around them. She'd even approved of the beginnings of this, glad to see women stand up for themselves. Now, though, Harley's last big 'fuck you' to Joker had sparked off an uprising of sorts.

The women of the East End had collectively decided to stop taking shit from the men around them. And while Babs personally applauded that, she wished they'd decided to do it at a time when said men weren't already embroiled in a turf war that had them all on hair triggers. Or at least, she wished they would've gotten some basic self-defense training in. The number of low-level goons turning up in emergency rooms with frying-pan concussions was fine by her (and applauded by Jay, who'd seen the statistics too), but guns were relatively easy to obtain in Gotham's underbelly. And most of the angry, frightened women at their collective wits' end had never held a gun before, much less fired one. Much less _aimed_ one. They had none of the familiarity Babs had from growing up in a policy family, and none of the training she'd gotten with her permit to carry concealed. None of them understood field of fire, or thought about what was downrange of their target. That made them extremely dangerous, and this morning a bad situation had gotten worse.

Susana Maria Torres Maldonado was fifty-one, a mother of three, grandmother of one, and a recent widow. Very recent, as in an hour ago. She'd shot her husband Miguel, who appeared to be in Dent's pay, four times through the chest about noon. In the Bowery, no one reported the shots. Or the screaming.

Susana herself called emergency services, her voice panicked and tear-choked. The dispatcher heard her say, "I shot the baby!" and sent the police promptly.

The baby – eighteen-month-old Roberto Wakefield – was already at Gotham General. His injuries were comparatively minor, the information Babs gleaned from the first responders and the ambulance communications indicated a wound barely more than a bullet graze. His condition was listed as Good in the hospital records. But the rumors on the street hadn't caught up to that yet. By the time the cops had secured the scene and finished photographing everything, a crowd had started to gather outside.

Three crowds, really, but they began to blend into two. The family, friends, and associates of James Wakefield, father of Roberto and ex-husband of Susana's daughter Marisol, had merged with the family, friends, and associates of Miguel Torres, bonding over rage held in common. James himself was sitting in a cop car, since he'd announced his intention on arrival to kill the bitch who shot his son. His people saw him sitting there – and he hadn't even been at the Torres home when it happened! – and a low grumble ran through them. Likewise Miguel's friends, most of whom had no desire to confront the police directly, hung around the edges of the group standing in the glow of flashing blue and red lights. Their sentiment lay with the murdered man, who had expected a little peace at the end of the day, who had perhaps enforced his will a little roughly, but who in their eyes did not deserve an ignominious death like this at the hands of a _woman_.

The third group, though, was all female, where the rest were mostly male. Susana's neighbors and friends and some women from the surrounding few blocks were all drawn to the commotion. While the other half of the crowd talked of murder and vengeance, the women spoke of seeing Susana wearing sunglasses on cloudy days, or long sleeves in summer. They talked of the time a young Marisol 'fell down the steps', and Miguel's late nights drinking, gambling, and worse. Of the three flavors of simmering resentment, theirs felt itself the most righteous, and was the closest to boiling over.

Any resident of the Bowery would know that at least half the men were armed, a pistol stuck in a waistband, brass knuckles in a pocket, knives slipped down the back of a jacket. What was startling was the _women_. Most of them seemed to be carrying some kind of blunt object, anything from brooms to hockey sticks to empty bottles, and quite a few were gripping their pepper spray in tight, angry fists.

The young cop who stepped outside to make sure there was parking for the coroner's van felt sixty or seventy pairs of furious eyes land on him. It was the East End – contempt and mistrust for the police crossed all racial lines, and the people glaring at him didn't look like a gang. They looked like a _mob_. He darted back inside so fast he seemed to have been pulled in, and sent a panicky call for backup that unfortunately inflated the numbers and disposition of the group outside.

That was the call Babs intercepted. She never drank to excess, but a potential riot in the Bowery burned last night's champagne-mellow out of her system promptly. Her police scanner and more subtle information-gathering efforts, plus the few cameras around, told her things were both better and worse than they seemed. The crowd was smaller than reported, and not yet actively hostile. But the police were about to arrest Susana.

It would be a necessity, Babs knew that. She'd made the call, she'd admitted to shooting her husband, and when the cops arrived she'd been crying and shaking and praying for forgiveness with her wailing bloodied grandson in her lap, fresh cordite on her hands. She _had_ to go downtown, and even the most compassionate cop would take her, if only to get her out of range of the faction calling her a murderer. With a little luck, she could plead self-defense and get probation and time served. But she _had_ to be arrested.

And when that happened, both halves of the crowd outside eyeing one another would unite against the cops, one side wanting to free her, the other wanting to lynch her. Thanks to the young cop's call, a SWAT team was already en route primed for a fight, and this could quickly _become_ the riot the young cop had thought it was. People would die.

Bruce was on it too, slipping out of the corporate luncheon, and he agreed with Barbara's assessment. They'd throw all their assets at this to keep the East End from turning into a war zone, but they had two _particularly_ effective ones.

Jason Todd was _from_ the Bowery. He still lived there most of the time. He knew how to walk the walk and talk the talk. Even with the helmet on, they'd know him for one of _them_.

And Kala Lane-Kent, in addition to being a woman who would balance the potential problems of sending a man to sort this out, could get them both there faster than anything or anyone else in town. Babs didn't believe in crossing her fingers for luck, but she did it anyway as she called them both in.

…

It was midday, Jay and Kala were up in his room, she'd just checked the tracking on the package of her Christmas gifts she'd shipped home – stuck in transit until after the holiday – and his phone suddenly gave an ear-splitting shrill. He _knew_ the damn thing was on vibrate, so his question wasn't entirely necessary, but he answered indignantly anyway. "Who the _fuck_ is this?!"

"Oracle. Get in uniform and get to the Bowery as fast as K can take you. We're minutes away from a riot. With everyone else at the corporate luncheon, you're on point." Her voice was dry as ever, but he thought he heard a hint of stress under the usual sardonic tone.

Kala had heard that, of course, and swore. Jay slapped the phone into speaker mode and started shucking his street clothes. "It's fucking New Year's day, why the hell isn't everyone in the Bowery hungover? Or still dead-drunk from last night?"

He yanked a shirt over his head, and Kala was just _there_, fully dressed and handing him his uniform pants. Some days he was really jealous of that damn super-speed. Meanwhile, Babs answered, "They probably _are_ hungover. Or drunk. They're also armed and angry. A woman shot her abusive husband and nicked her grandson. The crowd doesn't know the baby is okay. Half of them want to lynch her, half of them are furious she's even being arrested, each of them wants to beat up the other half, and all of them want to fight the cops. One of whom called SWAT."

"Oh _fuck_," Jay said. SWAT showing up in the Bowery was bad news. They were heavily armed and well trained, and even had some damn good negotiators. But the Bowery was a tinderbox right now, and one or even two SWAT teams would just be a spark thrown into it. Enough angry people could overpower even cops with riot gear. Usually the GCPD knew that, and tried to keep the peace with community policing and outreach, but for something like this where a cop was in danger, they could too easily overreact. Adding more firepower would only make things worse.

Kala was handing him his shirt, his holsters, his jacket, his gloves, his boots, as Babs read off the address. It was weirdly like having a valet, and also weirdly like having super-speed of his own; everything was just _there_ right when he would've reached for it, and she was too fast for him to even see her moving. He didn't even see her grab the front of his shirt and tug him close, but he felt her lips on his, and heard her voice whisper, "Happy New Year," with a heavy dash of sarcasm.

Yeah, happy New Year indeed. Kala handed him his weapons last, frowning a little as she passed over the kris and then both guns. The rest of his toys were in his jacket. "All right, Oracle, we're out," Jay said, and Kala stepped close again. He put his hands around her shoulders, and felt the world blur around them as she took off.

Kala took them out of the house and up first, his stomach feeling like it had dropped through his shoes, and then there was a moment's pause at the apogee of her flight while she calculated the fastest way to get there. Just the briefest instant, but Jay still wasn't used to looking down on the world like this. No wonder the Supers tended to have a different perspective on a lot of things. Jay saw Gotham from its rooftops and streets, and no matter how high he got he was still _in_ the city. Kala looked down on it from above, like a model train set or something laid out at her feet.

She locked on to the location, and the instant of hovering disappeared. Flying over the open ocean hadn't been this bad; with gradual acceleration and no visual reference for their speed, Jay had actually enjoyed that trip to Hong Kong. Even the mountains a couple days ago was all right, the clouds below them softening the impression of hurtling at missile speed. When it was his own city going by so fast it blurred, Jay couldn't help the way his gut roiled. Bristol to the Bowery in about ten seconds flat; it'd take Bruce twenty minutes, even in the Batmobile.

Kala landed them on the roof of the building across the street from where the incident had occurred, and Jay looked over, assessing the crowd below. There wasn't much height here, seven stories, but there were plenty of people in the street now. Babs' initial assessment based on camera images was eighty; Jay figured it was over a hundred now. And they were beginning to square up against each other.

"I hear men talking about 'getting justice'," Kala said dryly. "Sounds like a lynch mob. The women are mostly talking about 'not taking this anymore'. And the cops are reading the shooter her rights."

"We'd better get down there," Jay said, and fired his grapnel. Kala shot hers too, and they swung down right into the small open area between the cop cars and the front door. Jay quickly mounted the low wall that flanked the building's front steps; Kala matched him on the other side.

Before they could say or do anything, three uniformed cops stepped out, hands on their weapons, and one of them raised a megaphone. "Clear the street," the man said.

He'd hit the right tone, serious but not threatening, and he sounded like a Crown Pointer himself. But this crowd wasn't having any of it. "Fucking pigs! Get out!" someone screamed. Someone else yelled, "Give us the killer!"

Jay snatched the megaphone, which was the moment when the cops – who'd been focused on the crowd – realized the two vigilantes were even _there_. "Knock that off and go back inside before you get creamed," Jay said gruffly, glaring at the three uniformed men. "You didn't even have the fucking sense to bring a female officer."

Meanwhile Kala raised both hands, palms out and obviously empty, to the crowd. She'd told Jay she knew how to project to the back of an amphitheater without a microphone, and she proved it then, calling in a firm, calm voice, "We don't want anyone to get hurt here."

"You're too late!" someone shouted. "A man's dead and a baby's dyin'!"

"You lay a hand on that woman, _someone's_ gettin' hurt!" another voice yelled.

"You gonna stand around talking, or disperse that crowd?" one of the cops said, glaring at Jay.

"Yeah, I'm not in your command chain, why don't you _go the fuck inside_ and let us handle this?" Jay shot back. "You do _know_ I'm not Batman, right?"

Kala's voice rang out above them all. "The boy is fine. Call the hospital and ask for yourselves. Yes, one man is dead and a child is injured, but we are not going to let the situation get any worse. That goes for _all _of you." She made sure to cut a quelling look at the cops when she did so.

The crowd was moving, shifting their feet and walking back and forth, and Jay saw that they were gradually edging closer. In most areas of Gotham, a vigilante in uniform would be given a wide berth, maybe a cautious thumb's-up. Here, today, the mood was very different. Jay realized they shouldn't have dropped in like this and set their backs to the cops. It made them seem like they were protecting the cops, not the entire block.

He could practically smell violence in the air, and decided to take a calculated risk. They _had_ to get the crowd thinking like people instead of a mob. Reaching up, Jay popped his helmet off, letting them see his face. The domino was still on, that really _had_ become a habit. He saw Kala looking at him wide-eyed, but he stepped off the wall, his focus on the crowd, trying to project his voice as well as she had. "Listen up. You all know who I am, and I know you. I'm _from_ here – I grew up in Crime Alley. I know what life is like here. Don't turn on us, guys. We're out here every night trying to help you."

For about half a second, they paused. Then a man stepped forward, chin jutting out, hands in his pockets, and Jay's swift tactical assessment guessed he had a knife, not a gun, just from the set of his shoulders. "Oh yeah? Where were you when a bitch like that shoots her husband and puts a little baby in the hospital?"

From the other side of the crowd, a woman stood out, holding a baseball bat. "More like, where were you when her good-for-nothing drunk husband put her in the hospital first? And smacked that baby around himself? No one wants to help us, but you get damn pissed when we fight back!"

Another man called out, "Yeah, real easy to say shit like that now. Man busts his balls every day to take care of a woman and kids, puts food on their table, and this is the thanks he gets? Shot in the chest in his own fuckin' kitchen?"

"And a woman busts her ass all day every day, _cookin'_ that food, washin' your clothes, raisin' those kids, cleanin' that apartment, an' prolly has her own damn job too! You bastards get all that an' then you go sniffin' round some nineteen-year-old for more!" another woman screamed. Several women yelled in agreement, some banging their weapons on the ground, and Jay had to suppress a shiver. They were winding themselves up again, and he'd seen that harlequin pattern sprayed over too many bloodstains lately.

"She shot the baby! What part of that are you dumb bitches missing?!" another man bellowed.

Jay could feel the cops' tension, and knew their hands were creeping toward their weapons. "All right, enough!" he called out, taking another step forward.

He _meant_ to try to reason with them again, but instead the two halves of the crowd seemed to unite in turning toward _him_. Jay couldn't help remembering the last time Gotham had been swept by riots; he hadn't been here himself, but Steph had gotten caught up in it and chewed to pieces. There had been too damn many deaths in that handful of days.

"They gotta point," a short, grandmotherly-looking woman demanded, striding forward. She was carrying a large cast-iron frying pan, and she shook it accusingly at Jay. "Where _are_ you fancy capes when all this kinda stuff goes down?"

Kala spoke then, her voice carrying. "Probably out shutting down Black Mask's _human chop shop_. Stopping him from snatching up homeless people and runaways and just people unlucky enough to be alone, knocking them out, and literally _carving out their organs_ for sale on the black market. Or maybe we were chasing down Scarecrow and keeping a thousand liters of fear toxin off the streets. Or maybe we were locking Joker back in Arkham. We handle the threats you and the cops _can't_."

She had their attention now, striding down from the wall, still holding her hands out. Jay held his breath, not wanting to shatter the fragile accord. "We stop murders and beatings and thefts and rapes, too. There's a regular freaking _rota_ of us going out on the street, just trying to hold back the tide. We can't stop it all. We're not _gods_, we can't _see_ everything, and we stop whatever we _can_ see, but there just aren't _enough_ of us. We're doing the best we can with what we have, there's just too much crime."

One cop muttered, "Yeah, and vigilantism is illegal too."

"Shut up, you're outnumbered," Jay growled, darting a fierce look at the three cops. Didn't they realize Kala was currently saving all of their asses?

One cop, a little smarter than the rest, looked right back at Jay. "You're outnumbered too." There might've been a dozen cops inside, working the case.

Jay managed to laugh. "We're used to these odds. Comes with the territory. Also, I'll take one badass meta over all of you, your SWAT team, and your Aunt Sally too."

Someone near enough to hear that exchange laughed, and Jay felt the mood perceptibly lighten. They almost had them, they'd almost managed to evaporate the killing anger in the air. Now they just had to get the mob to walk away.

Kala took a deep breath. "We're going to watch this case. The truth _will_ be told. All of it. The media knows about this, _Batman_ knows about this. We all put ourselves on the line, every night, to protect _all_ of you. Men, women, children, civilians and cops. _No one else_ is going to get hurt today."

It was going great, Jay breathed out, letting himself think they'd turned the corner. And then Kala said something that would've flown great in Metropolis, something that was very Super of her, but here in Gotham it was more like a red flag in front of a bull. "I promise you, justice _will_ be done."

Some of them, maybe most of them, were willing to take that as she meant it. But one side of the group had come here for a different kind of vigilante justice, the old dark stuff, and Jay was pretty sure _someone_ in the crowd had a length of rope in hand and a streetlight picked out. "Whaddya know about _justice_?!" someone yelled mockingly.

The other side bridled, and Jay figured it was enough to have split the group again, so they weren't united in trying to kill the cops _and_ him and Kala. He could handle that, he'd back down the men and Kala could deal with the women, and that was the moment the stupid fucking cops drew their guns and one of them ordered everyone to disperse.

In response, a bottle came flying out of the crowd. Jay had just enough to realize it had a burning rag stuffed down the neck, but it was going too fast for him to do anything about. He couldn't even shoot it out of the air without raining flaming gasoline down on _someone_.

…

Kala wanted to scream at the cops in frustration. Yeah, she'd flubbed that last sentence, but she could get them back. Connecting with crowds of charged-up people was literally what she _did_ for a living. She had the natural charisma to cajole them into listening to her just long enough for their own consciences to speak up. Whichever officer first drew his gun, they _all_ followed suit, taking one man's challenge as an indication of violence to come. And by anticipating violence, they created it.

She saw the Molotov cocktail come flying, slung fast and high. Kala automatically calculated its arc, realizing it would hit the cops. They weren't armored against that, and there was simply no time for them to get out of the way.

So she darted to the top of the wall, leapt, and caught the bottle in the air. Carefully, her grip sure and gentle so as not to shatter the glass. Gasoline sloshed inside, the rag stuffed in the bottle's mouth was still burning pungently, but it didn't explode.

Kala let out the breath she'd been holding now, and felt the atmosphere around her change. She looked down at Jay and saw his mouth tighten to a flat line.

She looked _down_ … Kala had darted _up_ to grab the Molotov, and she'd needed to be fast and delicate to catch it without breaking it. She couldn't do that while falling toward a brick building, so she'd subconsciously stopped everything else to handle the bottle correctly. If it broke, _someone_ was going to get burned, either someone in the crowd or a cop or maybe even Jay himself with his helmet off. And she'd just told them – _promised_ – that no one else would get hurt. She couldn't break that promise, so she simply … stopped.

In midair.

_Well, __**fuck**__._


	51. And Closer to Destiny

**Authors' Note:** There is a reason for everything that happens in our fic. Trust us.

* * *

Halfway around the world, Damian's hands were shaking as he lifted his wooden practice sword. "Again," Ra's al Ghul said impassively.

Damian did not argue that he was too exhausted to continue. He knew better. Perfection was the goal, and sword drills would continue until he showed improvement. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and raised the blade to salute his trainer. This one was a professional swordsman, one of the most talented in that field, and Damian knew he could not defeat the man. All he was being asked to do was defend himself, using the techniques he'd been taught.

So far, his success had been limited. He couldn't seem to move fast enough, to interpret his attacker's moves correctly, or to position himself properly. And his grandfather would not accept anything less than a fight worthy of the Demon's heir.

As the trainer stepped in, his own wooden sword ready, Damian thought of his mother. He missed her keenly; she had been gone for _weeks_ now. Without her, Damian found himself feeling lonely despite all the servants in this palatial compound. He had his grandfather, of course, and Ra's often indulged him in conversation, but he was no substitute for Talia. She was just as demanding about his studies, though somehow she managed to be so while still showing him warmth and affection. Damian complained sometimes when she kissed his cheek or ran a hand through his hair, asking him half-scoldingly why he was growing so quickly. He didn't really mean it; he thrived on those tender moments.

If she were here, Ommi would tell him that the blood of the Demon ran in his veins. That he was _her_ son, and destined for greatness. That his father – whom he did not know – had been a man of rare martial arts prowess. According to Talia, though, his father's finest quality was his indomitable will. It was willpower he needed now.

Damian looked at his opponent, and imagined his father stood in his place. The shadowy figure in his mind had no discernible features, but Damian felt a little taller, a litter stronger, for pretending so. His sword stopped shaking. For a moment, Damian told himself he _was_ his father, and when the trainer attacked, he met the wooden blade with his own.

Perfectly.

Strike and counter-strike, dodge and parry, the blades met in a measured dance, Damian focusing all of his energy on being the warrior he envisioned his father to be. Stronger, faster, more agile than his young body could actually achieve. Somehow, he succeeded, surprising even himself.

At the end of the drill, Ra's al Ghul nodded. "Well done," he said, and all of the exhaustion and muscle aches crashed back in Damian, all at once. He staggered, but his grip on the sword did not falter. That had been among his first lessons, and all the training since had only reinforced the principle.

His opponent bowed slightly, and Damian returned the courtesy. Ra's dismissed the man, and clasped Damian's shoulder affectionately. "You have done very well, grandson," he said.

"Thank you, Jaddi," Damian replied. He was somewhat in awe of his grandfather; he might try the patience of his teachers, and even his mother to some extent, but never Ra's.

The older man nodded, his eyes distant. "Bathe, and tend to your injuries. I would like you to dine with me."

"Will Ommi be joining us?" Damian asked, his voice rising hopefully.

Disapproval showed in those luminous green eyes, and Damian quailed inwardly, but he did not show. Talia had inadvertently taught him a great deal about how to handle the disappointment of others; keep your chin up, accept reproof silently, never let them know they scored a mark.

"Not yet, hafidi," Ra's said, relenting. "She has important work to do."

Damian nodded, accepting that answer. No one would tell him when to expect Talia to return. He loathed her absences; there were servants aplenty to see to his needs, trainers and tutors to expand his mind and martial skills, but only his grandfather for _company_. And if he were entirely honest, Ra's al Ghul was not the warmest of companions. Talia made her affection plain.

Some of that showed in his expression, for Ra's patted his shoulder. "You miss her. As do I. It is no easy road for a child to walk, being of such blood as ours. I suppose you might even envy the village children, who see their mothers and fathers each day."

"No," Damian said, quickly shaking his head. He had only seen other children from a distance, and they seemed like some other species to him: uncoordinated, irrational, overly noisy. "I don't want to be like them."

Ra's nodded. "You are of a different stock. It is good that you prefer the life you've been born into. Much grief comes of trying to change one's fate." His eyes looked shadowed again, and then he gave a slight shrug. "It is what it is. Join me for the afternoon meal."

"I will," Damian replied, but Ra's was already walking away.

…

In Gotham City, Kala hovered in midair, a flaming Molotov cocktail in one hand. People were staring at her, both halves of the crowd and the cops momentarily transfixed. _In for a penny, in for a pound,_ Kala thought ruefully, glad now that Selina had started that rumor about her being an Amazon. She wrapped her hand around the burning rag, cutting off the oxygen and snuffing the flame. Her glove wouldn't have been quite enough protection without some invulnerability to back it up.

And then she looked out at all of them, her gaze level and calm. "I said, _no one else gets hurt today_. We are watching, and we will _not_ allow any further violence. The boy is safe, his injuries are minor. The woman will not be harmed in custody. Return to your homes and allow the police to carry out their duties. We are watching them, and you."

Kala meant to be clear and precise, and to slightly lean into the fact that she was a meta of unknown power. She didn't realize until she saw Jay's brow furrow just how much she sounded like the Empress.

It worked on the crowd. Everyone knew the Blur had speed; the public had no idea she could fly. They all had to be wondering what _else_ she could do. More importantly, they were realizing that bricks, bats, and Molotov cocktails wouldn't do much against her. The crowd began to melt away at the edges, and Kala stayed hovering there until they all dispersed.

Only then did she land, and Jay handed the megaphone back to cops. "Told you to let us handle it," he said gruffly.

"What the hell are you?" the most vocal officer said, looking at Kala as she drifted down to a landing. She had to suppress a smile; her father would've said, _A friend_. Then again, he wore a brighter uniform and worked in a less suspicious city. The question he'd answered had been '_Who_ are you?' This was Gotham, and a different era besides. Kala wasn't surprised to be asked _what_ she was.

Jay was the one who answered for her, as angry as she couldn't afford to be. "She's the vigilante who just _illegally_ saved all your asses from getting killed. Or worse, shooting someone and starting a fuckin' riot." They had the wit not to argue with that, and the oldest cop even looked ashamed.

Ignoring them for the moment, Kala glanced up when she heard sirens, and closer, a familiar engine. Just the thought of Bruce's response to her slip-up had her holding back a sigh. Yeah, the debrief wasn't going to go well, no matter what her end-results. So be it, she had done what she had had to do, what no one else could have in the moment. She would take the consequences. But for now, avoiding the Bat was for the best. "SWAT will be here in a minute or two," she said. "Batman, too. I meant what I said, gentlemen – we're watching this one. It had better be handled by the books. And it's worth remembering that justice is nothing if not tempered by mercy."

The Batmobile pulled out, blocking the street, and the SWAT van stopped beyond it a moment later. "Let's get out of here," Jay said, slipping his helmet back on. "The debrief on this shitshow is going to _suck_."

Having already tucked that away for later,_ knowing_ it would, Kala had more immediate concerns. "Has anyone told the woman that her grandson is okay?" she asked. And then, glancing toward the cop car at the end of the street and its confused, irate occupant, she added, "What about the father?"

"There's nothing to disclose," one of the officers said.

Kala didn't need x-ray vision to know Jay was rolling his eyes. "Blur, you tell the shooter. I'll let this guy know."

Even as Batman got out, looking steadily at the SWAT team, Jay trotted off toward the car. And Kala leaned past the cops, reaching for the doorknob. "Hey!" one of them snapped. "You can't go in there!"

In most situations involving the authorities, Kala tended to play it low-key and let the boys handle it. But this time, they deserved it. She handed him the extinguished Molotov with a sweet smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "You can't stop me."

Once inside, the aftermath tried to creep back again despite her bravado. Her heart had started pounding, the way it did after a close call. Kala's mind was helpfully conjuring up all the ways that confrontation could've gone wrong, all the bad endings she'd managed to avert – mostly by luck, it seemed. She forced that stuff aside, focusing on her breathing, and on not touching anything inside the building. The police were already scowling at her.

Up the stairs, past cops who frowned but didn't try to stop her, and Kala found the right apartment all too easily. "I need to speak with the woman," Kala told the officer at the door, her voice level. She'd never done this before; usually they left the bad guys tied up for the cops instead of interacting directly. The only time she'd really handled the public as the Blur was bringing that poor kid to the hospital over the summer.

Batman did this regularly, just walked into a crime scene and stated what he wanted. He always got it. This was Gotham; very few police officers were willing to gainsay the Bat, and those that did were never successful anyway. Here was hoping that it would work for someone that was known to be affiliated with both he and Red Hood.

The young cop on the door scowled, but let her in. Kala's sensitive nose picked up on cordite, burnt coffee, blood … and death. She resolutely ignored it all, walking steadily through the living room and past the body on the couch as if it all wasn't there. Right now, she had one goal; this was her place in things. Let the others sort this out. There were voices in the kitchen, so she headed there.

Two officers sat at the kitchen table with an older woman whose eyes were glassy. They were asking her questions, but her answers came at a slight delay, her voice wandering. Kala guessed the woman's age as somewhere in her fifties, but the pitiless fluorescent light and her stunned expression made her look ancient.

For the first time since giving the coordinates, Babs spoke up in Kala's comm. "Her name is Susana Torres. The latest news on Roberto is that he's stable and in good condition."

Kala touched her ear and said softly, "Thank you, Oracle." That got the cops' attention, and she nodded to them. "Officers, I'm a little ahead of the information curve. May I?"

She didn't actually wait for their permission, though. It might advantageous to them, from the point of view of extracting a confession, to let Mrs. Torres think she'd done more harm than she actually had. Kala wasn't going to play that kind of game, not when all indications were that Mrs. Torres had shot her husband in self-defense.

So Kala dropped to one knee beside the older woman's chair. "Señora Torres?" she murmured, using the correct Spanish pronunciation, and saw a spark of life in that miserable gaze. "Está bien. Your grandson is going to be fine. It was just a scratch. The hospital says he's in good condition."

Mrs. Torres looked at her blankly for a second, then broke into a trembling smile. "Muchísimas gracias," she said, and reached out for Kala. She let herself be drawn into a hug, feeling the older woman shudder with relief and regret. The cops had tensed up a bit, but Kala just rubbed her back gently as she thanked God in a broken voice for protecting her grandson.

Looking over her shoulder at the police, Kala added, "We cleared the street, and SWAT is here. You should probably take her downtown while things are relatively calm. We'll be on watch, just in case, but I'd rather not back down an angry mob twice in one day."

She drew away from Mrs. Torres, taking her hands gently. "You're going to be all right. Te prometo. Your family is going to be safe."

Overcome with emotion, Mrs. Torres could only nod and squeeze Kala's fingers. Kala stood up and headed out, her own emotions threatening to spill over. The whole thing was a goddamned shame, and unlike fighting Joker or Black Mask, there was no clear solution to the problems that had led to this day. There wasn't just some guy with a hate-on for the civilized world that they could lock up.

In the living room, a detective turned an unfriendly look on Kala. "You got anything useful to add to the investigation, or you just here to hold hands with the shooter?"

He sounded so much like Jay, way back at the beginning, that Kala had to fight the urge to laugh even as she bristled and narrowed her eyes. All she said, though she lowered her voice so it wouldn't carry, was, "That's a funny way to thank me for not letting the mob outside firebomb this place and kill a couple of your officers. Or did you _want_ to fight your way through a hundred angry people with improvised weapons and however many guns the average Bowery citizen has?"

"I wouldn't, Carswell, she's not just a speedster," another detective said laconically. "Ma'am, we'll be moving her to the precinct here in a minute, and the coroner's van is pulling up…"

"Understood. In that case, I'll get out of your way," Kala replied with a nod. Inwardly, she winced; dammit, she really had done it. Now that her flight was out of the bag, lots of things were going to change. As soon as Bruce got done dressing her down over it, she and Jay were going to have to plan damage control. _ Shit, shit, __**shit**_. "Thank you, gentlemen."

They both stood aside to let her pass, and Kala couldn't wait to rejoin Jay. She just couldn't help the heavy, eerie feeling that this was going to be the longest day ever and she couldn't wait until it was over.

…

The cops outside saw him approach the car where one guy – the father, James Wakefield, according to Babs' voice in his ear – was bouncing around in agitation. One of the officers called out, "The hell do you think you're doing?"

"Right now, stopping this guy from kicking out your window," Jay shot back. His lock gun popped the front passenger door of the cruiser easily, and he stuck his head in. He couldn't open the back from the outside, and wouldn't have wanted to get too close to the angry father anyway. "Hey, cool it, guy, or they'll take you in for damaging police property."

"Fuck you, man!" Wakefield shot back. "That bitch shot my kid!"

"Nah, she shot her old man. She just didn't know bullets go right through the shitty walls in places like this. Look, we heard from the hospital. Your son is okay. You need to calm down and cooperate so they'll let you see him, okay?"

The man froze, staring. "You serious?"

"I'm the Red Hood. I got no reason to lie to you."

Wakefield stared at him for a long moment, and Jay just waited. He heard Kala come out and head his way, and Wakefield tensed. "The fuck is _she_?"

"Right now, she's the reason this whole goddamn block didn't get shot up," Jay said. "Look, the cops will let you go once you settle down. Batman's here, they can't get away with any bullshit. The sooner you chill out, the sooner they'll let you see your son."

"I 'spose you're gonna tell me not to kill that bitch, huh?" he asked, jutting his chin out.

Jay just laughed. "Don't kill anybody. You do, then you gotta deal with us, and cops, and court. You wanna be part of your son's life, go to his games at school when he's old enough? Or you wanna be some man he only sees once a month behind glass, and maybe gets letters from? You want your boy to grow up like a lot of us grew up, with Mom working three jobs and Dad locked away? Mrs. Torres is going downtown tonight. Let her worry about her own shit."

Kala had arrived at his side, and added, "Honestly, I don't think you could do anything worse to her than the moment she realized one of her bullets had hit the boy. Hood, we need to get out of here and let Batman handle it."

Standing up, Jay noticed how the crowd was thinning, but some of them were still focused on him and Kala. This was the perfect time to leave; they would all be thinking about how the two of them could be _anywhere_, and not hanging around actually watching them to see what the metahuman would do next. "Yeah, we should roll out. Let's go find a nice abandoned building to lurk in. We need to talk."

He could see it in her eyes that she was already all-too-aware of the dressing-down she going to get. Kala managed a weak chuckle, the brief flicker of a nervous smile. "Plenty of those around. And yeah, I figured."

Jay just nodded. He knew what he had to do, and he was more nervous about it than she would ever guess.

…

Monitoring the scene, Babs breathed a sigh of relief. Batman could keep things contained. He was one of the very few who could back down SWAT just by looking at them. At least the police scanners showed that Mrs. Torres had been removed from the scene without further violence, and the gathered mob had simply melted away.

Babs found Mrs. Torres' hospital records and browsed them, forwarding the files to the GCPD via her usual anonymous route. The numerous 'falls' ought to show self-defense, or at least create enough sympathy for a lighter sentence. She was going to do some time for having an illegal weapon, at the very least, but perhaps that would be enough to mollify the vengeful section of the crowd tonight.

She was also monitoring the comms, and a few minutes after Jay and Kala left the scene, she spoke up ruefully. "I'm pretty sure where this is going. There wasn't time to think it through, Red. Do I get to skip part of it if I can tell you exactly what you're gonna say and add that I screwed up and I'm sorry? There has to be a way to work around it."

Jay sighed deeply. "About that. Oracle, we're going off comm. I need to have a private conversation. And since I _know_ you can activate these remotely, we'll go a couple rooms over to talk."

"Understood," Babs said, her eyebrows going up. She _knew_ there was a lot on Jay's mind this week. He and Kala had never been able to spend so much downtime together, and she'd watched them together over the past few days. Escaping to a cabin in the Blue Ridge mountains together – that wasn't normally on Jay's agenda, but he'd come back refreshed and easier in his skin than Babs had ever seen him.

There was a question he might want to ask without any eavesdropping, and back about May, Babs would've laughed if anyone suggested it. But now … all sorts of things seemed possible.

…

Jason Kent dropped the tablet he was reading on and rubbed his eyes. He couldn't concentrate on reading the article, which normally would've held his interest, being about black holes. He would've blamed eyestrain, but Kryptonian hybrids didn't _get_ eyestrain. It was just restlessness. Something felt wrong.

Usually when Jason felt like this, someone or something nearby was in trouble. He chalked it up to his subconscious mind and Kryptonian senses noticing tiny cues his conscious mind missed; afterward, he could often point out what particular thing had first drawn his notice. When Clyde the goat had gotten his horns stuck in the fence last summer, Jason had methodically checked on all the farm's inhabitants and the property. The subtle wrongness that time had been Patsy and Betty not coming to inspect his pockets for treats as soon as he neared their pasture. The mares turned out to be sticking near Clyde, sniffing him worriedly until Jason bent the fence wire and freed him.

Now, as the cold winter wind sang mournfully around the eaves, Jason looked out the living room window. Except for the tracks he'd cleared to the barn and other outbuildings, the property was covered in deep snow. The trees were bare and solemn, and the roofs held a burden of white as well. Jason knew the animals were bedded down warmly, safe and secure with plenty of food and warm water. On sunny days, the mules chased each other around the pasture, kicking up the snow, but on an overcast windy day like this, they'd be snug in the barn. Patsy and Betty were getting to an age where winters were harder on them; Jason supplemented their hay with sweet feed and warm bran mashes, and the vet had given him some bute to administer if they showed signs of stiffness. So far, though, they were weathering it just fine. Clyde the goat was probably in with them. The barn was quite a bit warmer than most barns would be; Elise's secret lab was underneath, and it was heated. The construction had made the old barn more weathertight and secure, too.

The chickens would be fine, too. Jason had wanted to put a heater in their coop, but the guy running the feed store had advised against it. The bedding was too flammable. Besides, chickens had wintered safely here for generations. Feathers were excellent insulation, and their coop was situated out of the prevailing wind, with plenty of perches for them to roost on and huddle together. An evening feed of cracked corn kept them nicely full and warm as they digested it. All he really needed to do was put a little petroleum jelly on their combs to protect them from frostbite.

Inside the house, the guest rooms were all closed off to save the cost of heating them. Right now Jason and Elise were mainly using the living room, the kitchen, and their bedroom which was directly over the kitchen. The wood stove in the living room put out plenty of heat, in addition to the furnace keeping the rest of the rooms they used tolerable, but for the most part they just wore a little more clothing in the winter. The dogs - Tippy, Hank, and Bart, all descendants of Ben's hound Barkley - clustered around the wood stove, or the oven whenever Jason or Elise cooked.

Also in the living room was Gazeera's cage. The iguana was eighteen years old now, and Jason worried about him every winter despite the insulation placed around three sides of his cage and the heat bulbs and full spectrum lights radiating into his cage. Jason got up to check on his pet, his heart sinking. Kansas just wasn't the right environment for a giant tropical lizard.

The living room was a comfortable seventy degrees, with the stove burning. Gazeera's cage never went below eighty, and his basking spot was in the high nineties. That was where he was dozing, blinking sleepily at Jason. "Hey, Gazeera," Jason murmured, reaching in to pet him. He checked the thermomenters and hydrometer, noticing the humidity had dropped a little, and misted the cage lightly.

Nothing in the house, then. There was one more possibility, one Jason hadn't let himself think about: Elise. Her due date was early February, but they had no data for second-generation hybrid gestation times, so it could be later. He had watched the weeks slip past, holding his breath as they crept into the range where a premature birth might be survivable. On this New Year's Day, they were solidly in the middle of the third trimester by anyone's reckoning, and Jason had _seen_ their girls, tiny and perfect. He and Elise had been talking about names, mulling over their options. If anything was wrong with Elise, or his daughters…

He pulled on a jacket in case someone saw him before heading out to the barn, stopping briefly to check on the hoofstock. Betty thrust her nose toward him, and he petted her gently - none of them were shivering, and their automatic waterer was full. Jason moved on, pulling the trap door and walking down the stairs.

Elise was peering into a microscope with a frown, and Jason focused his hearing and vision on her. Her heartbeat was normal, so were the twins' heartbeats. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. "Hey, gorgeous," Jason murmured.

"Hi, handsome," Elise replied, sitting up. She put her hands to the small of her back with a wince. "God, I can't wait for these two to be finished cooking. I swear every day is a new ache somewhere."

Jason, who'd been in bed beside her when one twin decided to plant her feet against Elise's ribs from the inside and stretch, could only give her a commiserating frown. "I'm sorry. If I'd known they would be twins…"

"Oh, stop it," Elise said, reaching toward him. Jason took her hand and let her pull him close, wrapping his arms around her. She sighed and buried her nose in his shirt. "We wanted kids. Now we're having kids. It's not your fault that we're doing this on the accelerated plan."

"Yeah it is. Twins run in my family," Jason said, rubbing her back. "And it's a lot harder on you than I ever realized. There's not even that much I can do to help."

"Jason, you're doing everything you can," Elise told him, gently scolding. "It'll be fine. Our moms got through it, I will too. Even when they kick me in the bladder at four in the morning, I don't regret it. Now why are you down here being all mopey? I thought you were going to read that article about Venus you were so excited for."

He smiled, thinking that they were perfectly matched nerds. On New Year's Day, when most people were hungover from partying, he and Elise were both absorbed in their respective sciences. He wasn't going back to college this semester, but that was no reason to ignore the news. "I was, but I felt like something was wrong. The animals are fine, so I figured I'd check on you."

"Thanks for looking after the critters before your _wife_," Elise teased.

"Hey, you're a certified genius. I know you can look after yourself. They're just animals," Jason replied.

"Don't underestimate the animals. Those chickens killed a freaking _copperhead_ last March, and ate it," Elise pointed out.

That was true, and Jason chuckled a little at the reminder that their friendly hens were decidedly omnivorous, and descended from dinosaurs. "I don't know what's got me antsy, then," he said.

Elise knew him well, and asked a shrewd question. "What's your team getting up to, with you on pregnancy watch?"

"Trouble, probably," Jason laughed, and took out his phone. He glanced at the time; midday, so even if they'd had a late night, they should all be awake. Elise leaned against him as he dialed Cassie's number.

She answered, sounding a little groggy. "Jason? What's up?"

"Just checking in. The missus and I wanted to wish you a happy New Year," Jason said. Elise elbowed him for the 'missus'.

Cassie laughed. "Happy New Year to you, too. Mom and I watched the fireworks and split a bottle of champagne. Did you two have a good time?"

"Yeah, we split some sparkling grape juice on account of the twins. It was quiet out here, except for some illegal fireworks over by the Ellzey property. Did Cissie tell you how the team spent the evening?" Cassie, Jason, and Tim had, on realizing that all of them had obligations this week, left Arrowette in charge of the Titans.

Cassie sighed heavily. "Rose spiked the punch. As I specifically warned Cissie to expect. But then she spiked the backup punch, too. Most of them are hungover, but everyone's alive. And Rose is in good spirits because she got away with something, the contrary little brat."

Elise rolled her eyes at that, leaning close to the phone. "She probably just misses being able to troll you, Jase, and Tim."

"I wouldn't put it past her. Speaking of Tim, he's stuck at some Wayne corporate thing today, but he sent me roses at Mom's house just to say he missed me," Cassie said, her voice warm.

"Aww, that's sweet. My husband told me I'm smarter than a farm animal today - that's all I've got," Elise replied.

"Hey, no fair ganging up on me," Jason said hurriedly. Honestly, it was great that Elise and Cassie were friends. Things could've been _extremely_ awkward, working with his ex who was dating his best friend, and Jason was grateful that all of them genuinely liked one another, and the two women didn't feel any jealousy. But sometimes he wished they weren't _quite_ so close, usually when they made him the focus of a joke.

He ended the call after a little more small talk and banter, Elise smiling as Cassie signed off. Then she looked up at him, and her gaze turned solemn. "How's Kala?" Elise asked.

He probably should have thought of her first. Kala had sent him a text last night, wishing him a happy new year, and he'd wished her the same. Now that he thought about it, his unease probably _did_ come from his twin. "Crap, you're right. She still hates this time of year."

"With good reason," Elise said.

Jason looked at his phone, thinking. "The Gotham crowd doesn't get up early, and if Tim's at something corprorate, probably Bruce is too. She wouldn't be at something like that. I don't want to wake her up if she's asleep."

"Is she having a nightmare, you think?" Elise asked.

He shook his head. Jason was familiar with that creeped-out feeling he got whenever Kala one of her really bad nightmares, the ones where she woke up speaking Kryptonese. This was a restless kind of foreboding, not the sheer terror of those nightmares. "It's probably just the day," he said. "It was eight years ago today that she ran away, you know."

"I remember," Elise said, and hugged him again.

What Jason hated most was not being able to protect someone he cared about. That was why, when he felt perturbed, his first instinct was to check on the safety of everyone and everything around him. He hugged Elise, and murmured, "If it was that bad, she'd call me. I don't want to bug her while she's with him."

"My sweet, protective farm boy," Elise said, smiling sadly.

"I am not a farm boy. I was born in Paris and lived in Metropolis most of my life," Jason replied indignantly.

"Sweetheart, there's hay in the pockets of your jacket," Elise pointed out. "And probably goat poop on your shoes. You were splitting logs for the wood stove yesterday. You're a farm boy."

Jason scowled at her, and then grinned, the expression Kala always pointed out when she called him the evil twin. "If I'm a farm boy, that makes you a farm _wife_. Dear."

Elise glared at him, incensed, and retaliated the only way she could in her heavily-pregnant state: she tickled his sides mercilessly. Jason roared laughter, swatting lightly at her hands, and let his sense of foreboding fade away.

Kala was a grown woman, after all. And she was in Uncle Bruce's city. Nothing there could really harm her.

…

Jay put down his helmet, and took off the domino underneath. This abandoned apartment building ought to be safe enough, no one else was around, but he still felt strangely naked taking the masks off. Kala left hers beside his, and followed him with a worried frown.

And yet she still followed him. She was expecting to get bawled out, he'd made her leave her domino and the comm in it so no one else would hear this, and _still_ she followed his lead. What the fuck had he ever done to deserve that kind of trust from someone like her? How the hell could he possibly measure up to that?

The voice of his thirteen-year-old self, the one who had wanted to keep her first, was screaming at him, but Jay was good at ignoring voices in his head. In the early years he'd learned to shut out Joker's laughter, and then Bruce's disappointment. Silencing a kid who didn't understand how damn dangerous he was to the woman he loved, that was easy.

He walked into one of the deserted apartments and looked around at the peeling walls, at last giving a nod. This was a desolate scene, but what could be more fitting? Everything between them had begun here in Gotham, in the Bowery, in the stubborn hope that clung to its ruined roots. Jay slipped his hands into his jacket pockets and touched the small box hidden in the inner lining.

He knew what he had to do. It just scared the hell out of him to do it. And hurt, too. So many parts of his mind and heart had come back to life in the past few months, and some of them still tingled like a numbed limb reawakening, pinpricks of pain that let him know he was alive.

It couldn't go on like this. All the things they knew and didn't talk about. He had to be the one to call the shots; Kala wouldn't. She had let him lead from the first, agreed to accept his training, and while she was no pushover in the field she let him take command there, too. She only defied him when she felt lives were at stake. Hell, fucking _Supergirl_ had come to love him on his terms, not hers. And there was no doubt in his mind anymore – even if she'd never said the words aloud, as she had half-asleep that one night, Kala showed it in a thousand ways.

She _listened_ to him. Not in the sense of obedience, she listened and cared what he thought, what he felt, not so that she could better manipulate him but simply because he mattered to her and she wanted to know him. No matter how black and awful the secrets he gave into her keeping, Kala never wavered, and never told another soul.

She supported him. She'd been willing to kill Joker from the moment she saw how the Clown affected him, and the more she knew, the higher her wrath burned. Now, the next time Joker broke out of Arkham, Jay knew he could count on Kala to plan his demise – and help cover his tracks. She was ready to murder for his sake, to risk everything, even her father's censure, and he knew what her father meant to her.

He knew because she'd been open with him. She'd shared her past and all her secrets, but more than that, she'd taken him into her world. The Fortress, which so few humans had ever seen, with its fantastic crystal artifacts and the holograms that were all that was left of an entire culture and people – _hers_ – destroyed and nearly forgotten. Kala had taken him to North Carolina, too, for a taste of normal small-town American life that was ironically more familiar to the half-alien chick than to Jay, fully human though he was. He'd spent too much time in the big city, and then traveling the world as an assassin in training, to connect with the heartland of his own country. Oh, city life was part of the American identity too, but a city like hers, like Metropolis, industry and innovation and the cultural melting pot that brought a thousand peoples together under one banner. Not the canker sore that was Gotham. His city was a festering wound, always had been, and all their efforts to make things better for the ordinary people who lived there just stemmed the tide of violence. Nothing could stop it, only slow its inexorable toll.

He'd brought Kala here, and she _shone_. The black sheep of her own family – inasmuch as those functional and mentally healthy people _had_ a black sheep – the Kryptonian with a temper to match the fire in her eyes and a splinter of darkness in her soul, the one who'd been dismissed by other heroes, Jay made her see his Gotham, and give a damn about it, and here in this miserable hellhole she burned with a clean, fierce light that inspired people.

Even today, that misstep of letting them see her flying, there were already rumors in Gotham that Blur was some kind of Amazon. They'd see her as displaced from her people, another misfit like them. If he let her, she'd take up the banner the women of the East End had raised and stand true, be a beacon for others. Her courage wasn't something her powers gave her, it was just her nature, her brave and brilliant soul shining out through hazel eyes he saw in his dreams.

And nightmares. Because Jay knew damn well that being in Gotham called out her dangerous side, the flaw in her shine, the remnant of Kala's stay in the shadow of both Luthor and General Zod. _He_ called out the Empress, just by being himself, he made Kala want to protect him and fight at his side, and running with him had thrown her into so many situations that forced her alter ego to the surface, Jay had been _flirting_ with her shadow-self. That Nevada Protocol file was twice as long now, they'd been dealing with the Empress so much and had to find so many ways of controlling her.

Jay had been standing with his back to her, his hand down, gripping the box in his fist, and Kala had slipped up close behind him. "Jay? Talk to me. Are you okay?" she asked, sounding worried.

About _him_. About what he thought. About how he felt. The child his birth-mother hadn't wanted, the boy his father hadn't understood, the kid who couldn't save the only mother he'd known, the Robin who lost his way, the assassin who couldn't kill his nemesis. The man who couldn't bear to say what he needed to say to her, when she'd been _everything_ to him for months now. Kala made him happier than he'd ever been, and yet his throat closed up when he thought too hard about it. He had nightmares and panic attacks about getting her killed, he'd watched Joker run a knife along her throat and if it had been _his_ knife she'd've bled out in his arms.

And still, all he wanted was to keep her. He'd been lingering around jewelry stores, for fuck's sake. With Kala, he knew it could work.

"Listen, I'm sorry, I know what we said. I know you're worried about anyone getting too many hints," she murmured, sounding chastened and anxious, close enough to touch him but hesitating. Yeah, Kala was realizing what she had done. "All I could think about was, what happened if it landed in the crowd? If it landed on _you_? I fucked up, I know I did and I know what I promised you. I know. I know, I'm sorry. I … I couldn't think of any other choice. It won't happen again."

It would, and he knew it. Which was why he had to do this now, had to set things right before it all went over the edge.

Jay turned around and looked at her. So goddamn beautiful, and those _eyes_, she killed him every time with those hazel eyes. So full of love and trust and care. He could just say it now, and she'd do everything in her considerable power to make sure he was never unhappy again. She'd move heaven and earth for him, risk her life, whatever it took. Pure devotion.

She saw his troubled eyes, and reached to touch his face. "It's not just that, is it? It's something else, too. What are you thinking, Red? Please, talk to me. Tell me what else is wrong?"

_He_ was wrong, that's what. She knew something was breaking inside him, she could see right through him. But _Jay_ was the reason she kept slipping, sooner or later she'd reveal what she was and then the whole underbelly of Gotham would glow green with kryptonite. They were already gunning for her, all of them, Joker had seen her face, Selina had warned him there was a target on Kala's back. If they found out her weakness, they'd all carry kryptonite. Hell, he _was_ kryptonite for her, in just a few months with him she'd run up against all of Gotham's deadliest, she'd been fear-gassed and Ivy-poisoned and held hostage by _Joker_. What kind of person was he, to drag her into all of this?

Like radiation poisoning, he didn't look dangerous to her, he looked like something she wanted to hold, and the whole time he was changing her, warping her, dragging her even deeper into his mess of vengeance and trauma and nightmares. The longer she stayed with him, the more often her dark side came out to play, to the point where the Empress was lurking under her words and even in her kiss. She couldn't help that, the Empress existed to protect her from the greatest dangers in the world, and all of them were right here in Gotham. Jay couldn't help clinging to the brightest thing in his entire life, but he was smothering the very light he loved just by virtue of what he was.

And he couldn't just send her away, because she wouldn't _go_. She was too goddamned Super to leave when she knew she could help here. Gotham needed a light like hers, and Kala would stay even if she was bleeding. She couldn't stop herself from caring about these people, from trying to save them, even though eventually it would cost her everything. And _he_ was the reason she was here, he was why she looked deep into the abyss of the Bowery. She'd been scheduled to train here for the summer, _Jay_ was the reason she kept coming back.

But Supers weren't _for_ this kind of shit. They were for world-shaking events. Bringing Kala to a riot was like using a firehose to water a potted plant. Dangerous overkill, the same way the cops bringing a SWAT team before the first threat was made was overkill. A fucking super-powered meta just stood down Gotham cops and a mob of armed humans. Where could that thread lead? Nowhere good.

He'd been trained as a detective first, before becoming a vigilante or an assassin; Bruce always wanted the boys to see where each action lead. It was the only advantage that normal humans had against superheroes and supervillains, being able to out-think them. Hot-headed as ever, it wasn't always easy for Jay, but the training had stuck nonetheless and he couldn't help following that thread.

A Super's perception was too wide for that. They saw all the little threads, all the time; the way Kala described just her hearing was enough to exhaust him, and all her senses were superhumanly keen. She had to narrow her focus and rely on her reaction speed. If she started looking for and pulling every suspicious thread, she'd be paralyzed. Too many choices, too many paths. But there wasn't a Super on the planet – least of all his girl – who could see that Molotov flying toward a person and not react to prevent injury. It didn't matter if the projectile was aimed at a cop or a civilian, a good person or an evil-doer, innocent or complicit. From a Super perspective, they were all _people_, and people were to be protected. Metas like them were not capable of calculating how much harm was acceptable, and given how much harm they could do, Jay was damn glad of it.

On the balance, Jay would still choose to end this one her way. Because if the bottle had landed, the cops would shoot into the crowd, the crowd would shoot back and charge with every weapon they had, then the SWAT team would roll up with riot gear and shoot everything, and there were innocent bystanders in the buildings all around. After years of Jim Gordon's leadership, the GCPD was better than it ever had been, but it was too easy for a cop with a gun to see shooting people as the answer to their problems. The situation had been explosive, and Kala had defused it without any losses – except for some of her secrecy.

Babs maybe shouldn't have sent them out to something so volatile. It was hard not to play that card, though, knowing she had super-speed in her deck. Having Kala in Gotham gave them an extra option that maybe they shouldn't have, or shouldn't use. But they couldn't help using her because she was so fucking good. K had the heart of a Super whether people knew it or not, and even this filthy fucked-up city responded to it. She'd had the crowd, except for that one bobble, if the cops had just stayed chill for a minute longer she could've brought the whole thing down without a single projectile thrown.

Hell, he even understood why Babs would want to use Kala. He'd been the one who trained her, he'd basically _built_ the Blur, and Jay took a helluva lotta pride in the magnificent warrior he'd created. Kala was an enormous credit to him, and to the Bats as a whole. She was too fucking badass not to want to see her in action.

But every time she went into action, she risked more and more of herself. And Jay _wasn't_ objective, where she was concerned, he couldn't make cold-hearted decisions like Bruce or Babs, because he fucking _loved_ the girl so much it was pouring off him like the scent of cheap cologne. He'd never said it, not even to her, but everyone knew it and he couldn't deny it even to himself. He loved her so damn much he had nightmares about losing her every goddamned night. And she loved him, too, so much that she kept willingly walking into this city where so many things were dangerous to her – when most of the world wasn't – and kept fighting for him. She had a life, she had a job, she had a family who loved her, she had fucking _fans_, but she made time to come here and roll in the dirt trying to make things better with _him_. She was risking her life and maybe losing her mind to be here, and Jay was the reason for all of it.

Call it a curse, just what happened when the son of some awful people got murdered by a psychopath and was too goddamn stubborn to die, so he clawed his way back to life with Lazarus-green fractures in his soul. He was toxic, that was all.

Kala deserved better than this. She really did.

_I love you, Kala,_ Jay thought, and felt a pang in his heart.

Jay took a deep breath, steeled himself as he grabbed her wrist before she could give that familiar caress of his cheek, and looked her in the eye to answer her question with a harsh tone. "What's wrong? _You_."


	52. Love and Its Decisive Pain

**Authors' Note:** Please put down your pitchforks and torches. We promise, this is not the end for these characters. It's not the end of the story or of the series.

That said, this one hurt to write. We understand it may be painful to read. For ourselves as well as for all of you, we'll be posting a one-shot tomorrow that is set several years in the future, titled May It Be. There will be MAJOR spoilers in it, but it won't spoil everything. Just enough to give some hope.

*deep breath* Okay, here we go.

* * *

For a moment, Kala could only watch him with startled eyes at Jay's cold pronouncement, glancing down at her captured wrist and then back up at him. This sudden venom in his voice had not been anywhere close to what she'd been prepared for. She'd been expecting a tongue-lashing for revealing a new power, a stern admonishment to keep her head in the game and not get distracted, maybe even a list of six other ways she could've handled that. She hadn't expected _this_.

"You _keep_ doing shit like this, K," Jay went on. "You're always jumping the gun, thinking you can handle everything. Well now you've got the whole East End wondering what the fuck you really are, and that's gonna be great if they figure it out."

He had a point, she knew he did, but this didn't have to be a stumbling block. "Jay, that's not fair and you know it. I didn't show any powers that an Amazon wouldn't have," she tried to interject, and he steamrolled right over her.

"So the fuck what, we know Joker's sitting in Arkham trying to figure you out, and now that you've popped out flight you've narrowed the field a lot. You keep this kind of shit up, you're gonna get hurt or killed, and who do you think has to clean up _that_ mess when your dad or your hothead brother rolls into town?" Jay shot back, stepping into her space. "I'm fucking tired of it, K. I'm tired of every after-action report _still_ being the same shit that got you reamed out by Donna and sent here in the first place. You're _still_ running on your own recognizance, and relying on your fucking powers to keep your ass in one piece. What happens when you screw up bad enough that you can't pull out a win? Or you get someone else killed? I'm a damn good fighter but I don't really wanna take on a dozen cops, _two_ fucking angry mobs, and a couple SWAT units all at once. That's the kinda thing I'd rather just chuck sleeping gas at from the rooftops."

That made her jerk her hand out of his grasp, the coldness had been running down her spine replaced by the first stirrings of real anger, burning away the shock. "I didn't get us into that! We were sent out on O's orders! Not only that, it was _your_ idea to jump in!" Kala snapped, wounded.

"_Shut up!_ I didn't ask you to defend your bullshit, K," he snarled.

Just the sheer viciousness of his tone rocked her back on her heels, utterly spooked and on edge. Something was very, very wrong. The man in front of her was not her Jay. No matter that he wore his face, this was not the man whose arms she had curled into last night, whose heartbeat she'd heard even as she dreamed. This man she had loved so stubbornly and fiercely felt suddenly like a stranger in only a matter of minutes.

It had been months since he'd spoken to her like that, back when his frustration occasionally boiled over in training. No, not even then. Not since that first night in that dark alley; the night of her first take-down, in the midst of the organ-harvest revelation. It felt like a time-warp. Coldness creeping down her spine again, Kala could only look at him with slowly-dawning dread. "What are you doing, Jay?" she whispered, forcing the words from her lips.

"Trying to make you see what's right in front of you," he spat. "And don't give me that look, you fucking well know who you're dealing with. Just because we're fucking doesn't mean I won't call you out. You should've banged Dickie-Bird if you wanted sympathy."

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled at that, sounding all too much like an echo of the man she'd first met. Before her eyes, Kala was watching Jay pull in on himself, into his own defenses. She knew he was angry, he had every right to be, but they had gotten beyond this. They both had, and she refused to lose the ground they had gained, no matter what had set this level of frustration off. Ignoring all of the other hurtful words, still bewildered why it had triggered him so deeply, she latched onto the most important.

"Who fucking asked you for sympathy?" she retorted, beginning to bristle.

"Those sad fucking puppy-dog eyes of yours," Jay said. "I'm sick of that shit, too. It's about time we had a goddamn reality check here. I tried to do the sugary sweet thing, but it's not me. And you goddamn well knew that from the minute we met. First thing I told you was to stay outta the line of fire, and you've done nothing but jump into it ever since."

Kala was so completely taken aback by his turnabout that she let him keep going, even as every word hit her like a shard of kryptonite to the chest. Jay loomed over her, his expression fixed in anger and disappointment, his eyes cold as their icy color so rarely was. "What did you think this was? Some kind of happily-ever-after? This is _Gotham_, Princess, we don't do that here. Yeah, it's been nice, I gotta say the perks have been great. You're saving me money on airfare and you're handy in a fight, when I can keep you on a short enough leash. I'll even thank you for getting my apartment cleaned up right, I needed to handle that shit. But just because you stock my fridge doesn't change who we are. And frankly, I wasn't expecting a summer fling to turn into Super-cling, but I put up with it because you really are a stellar lay."

Time seemed to stop in sheer disbelief, Kala's hands curling into fists involuntarily. Those words froze her in place, knocking the breath from her, as she could only stare at him, defenseless in horror. Of all the things she had expected to hear when they had come into this apartment, these were the last she had ever suspected. Not from Jay, not to her. Not when she had thought they had come so far.

Nothing, _nothing _had prepared her for anything like this, her emotional armor long since put down around him. There had to be another reason for him to have set on her like this, none of this making sense. Kala knew better, she _knew _she knew better than to believe the idiocy he was spouting. And yet, her initial unfounded fears of months ago, waking up in his bed naked and so vulnerable, rose up as if in a nightmare. Again, it hit her that this was not the man she had grown to love. This was the mask, as real and fearsome as the Empress herself, the distant and exacting one he hid behind when even the helmet and domino couldn't keep the world at bay. She _knew better_, better than she knew her next breath. Whatever was going on here was not good and she had to snap him out of it before they both went too far. "Bullshit. Stop it, Jay. I don't know what the hell this is about, I don't know what I did to deserve this, but this isn't you. We both know that. You don't mean any of it. Don't do this."

"Don't fucking tell me who I am and what I mean," he snarled. "This has been a long time coming, K. I put up with too much for too long. You're as bad as Donna, trying to make me something I'm not. At least Talia kept her priorities straight."

_That_ hit so hard Kala's vision almost whited out, her ears ringing, and the Empress growled in the back of her brain. For an instant, she felt real hatred flash through her at that. That one really honestly hurt. "You fucking bastard," she ground out, her voice low and quiet and furious. "That's underhanded and low, even for you."

…

Jay's stomach roiled, and he clenched his teeth to keep back the bile that wanted to retch up and out, seeing that look on Kala's face. He was hitting her with everything he had, and she _still_ hadn't lost her temper or left. Fucking sainthood, right in front of him, and all the more reason to get her _out_ before she sacrificed herself. Even if this hurt him worse than whaling on her over the summer, trying to break through what he _thought_ was a tough-girl front. He'd puked after that, when he realized there was no bottom to her grit, that Kala would keep going through pain and fear and rebellion and desperation, that she didn't have any fucking quit in her, and that he'd been beating her up for no real reason after all.

This was a thousand times worse. The woman could get hit by a _car_ and dance the same night, if she got enough sun. He was leaving wounds sunlight couldn't heal, and he had to break her heart to save her.

Jay had really thought bringing up Talia would've done it, would've been enough. But her control had gotten too damn good, and she was still fighting. "You have no idea how low I can go," he growled back, stalling for time, trying to find something even worse than _that_.

"You are _not_ just what Talia made," Kala told him, and she _believed_ it all the way down to the bedrock of her soul. Even with him spitting poison in her face, even fighting the Empress behind her eyes – because he was for damn sure a threat right now, and her shadow-self knew it – Kala still believed in something more. "Stop this, Jay, stop it _now_. Stop running from this between us and fucking _fight_ for something for once in your goddamned life!"

He could see the tears in her eyes, of pain and desperation. Jay knew he couldn't back down now. If he let her off this once, she'd know it was a lie, that he was trying to run her off to save her, and she'd never let him have a second chance. Hell, he couldn't stand to try this again. Now or never, and she'd given him a target for his next volley. "Fight for something? You fucking spoiled little super-powered trust fund baby, I've fought more than you _ever_ have! You already get it all, you've got _twice_ the family most people get and they're all alive, you've got the powers, you've got the goddamn ridiculous fucking _day job_ with thousands of screaming fans! You don't get this, too! You don't get to be the one who made Red Hood come in from the cold and fucking take up _knitting _or some shit!"

In that second, her flashfire temper seethed and she couldn't help herself from responding in kind. "_Fuck_ you and your goddamn knitting! And fuck you for buying into stereotypes, you fucking troll!"

Just when it looked like he had succeeded, he watched Kala visibly fight her fury back. Closing her eyes for a second, she wrestled her temper back down. "I never asked you for _anything _in all this! I never asked you for a single fucking thing! I knew better to push you beyond what you could handle." She cut him off then, her voice trembling … and he saw her hands tighten. Careful now; six months ago she would've already hit him. Maybe by the time this was done, he'd have a broken jaw to go with that broken nose. A small enough price to pay.

Hell, she probably _was_ going to hit him before this was over, and if he was lucky, he wouldn't end up in Gotham General.

"You never had to ask. You just offered," Jay told her, and that was close to the truth. She _hadn't_ asked him for anything, she'd been willing to take whatever he would give her, even when they both knew it was less than she deserved, and she had laid her heart at his feet. Which was why stomping on it now was so damn hard.

Jay hardened his own heart, and went on. "You think just because you never said anything out loud, you weren't making it clear what you wanted? You took me to your family's _log cabin in the woods_. You were here for Christmas in damn sexy lingerie, and oh, what week is this? Cutesy comments about buying condoms aside, you're letting your ovaries make your decisions, K."

He could see that shot hit her where she lived, her jaw tighten as if he had actually punched her, or maybe she was just clenching it on a scream, eyes closing briefly as those words landed. Kala was still fighting it; he couldn't miss the way she was shaking, her breath coming faster, the way her fists tightened just a bit more. And still she didn't run, held her ground even as he fired salvos at her.

When those hazel eyes met his again, they were dangerous, full of hurt and anger. Her nose flared, that stubborn chin coming up even the tears finally escaped. He was striking deep now and he knew it. "Seems I've been making that mistake over and over since your birthday. My fault completely for believing you that night; of course, you couldn't refuse what was on offer, could you. More the fool me, huh?"

Jay couldn't help remembering that first morning-after, when he'd panicked about her seeing the state of his apartment and woken her up trying to take trash out and get coffee started and salvage some chance in hell of her not just fleeing in disgust. Kala had been almost shy, afraid of being too vulnerable, not even wanting him to see her naked in the morning light despite everything that had gone between them the night before. How they'd almost fucked it up then with a misunderstanding, Kala reaching for reassurance and him thinking she meant to keep it casual and oh fuck it was _never_ casual. He hadn't been able to say the words to her then, so he'd kissed her and let that speak for him, and _he_ was the fool, trying to let his body say all the things he was too much a coward to let cross his lips.

_Still_ a coward, because even the thought of saying it now sent ice down his spine. Every relationship Jay had ever been in only proved he wasn't made for love, didn't deserve it, couldn't find it untainted or keep it if he did. And this, the _one_ time everything looked to come out right, he could keep Kala only at the risk of destroying her, literally or figuratively.

"Yeah, there's not a man alive who'd turn down _that_ chance," Jay said, his voice rough, hating himself for the tears tracking down her cheeks. "We're both fools, thinking this could go on. You're the bigger fool for thinking you could change me, or save me, or whatever dumbass hero complex bullshit you think you're pulling here."

God, after the rapt way she'd held his gaze last night, the unguarded way she gave herself up to him, never hiding her responses, it was its special own torture to be forced to watch that expressive face now, seeing just how much he was hurting her. But Kala still fought, even emotionally wounded, even when it was hopeless. Her eyes burned then, even as she cried, the fury flaring brightly there as she rallied to snap back. "_Fuck you_. I never asked you to change for me. I _told_ you not to! Don't you dare put that on me; I did everything I could _not _to do that, unlike everyone else in your life! If you did, it was your own choice. Don't do this, not when we've come this far. Why now? You at least owe me that! After all these months, I deserve an answer for _why_."

"Fuck _you_, I don't owe you a damn thing, and if you think the only way to change someone is to _ask_ them to, you need to pull your head outta your ass," Jay snarled, and he needed to end this soon or he was going to just fucking puke on her. The problem was, he knew her _oh_ so well. Jay knew everything that could lift her heart or slice it to pieces, and he reached for the sharpest weapon he had. "Gotta give you this, you're more subtle than Talia. And you probably think you're doing what's _best_ for me, but everyone else thought that too and they fucked me over in the end." Even as he said it, Jay realized he was using a level of manipulation Talia herself would be proud of, and it made him even more nauseous.

He saw the flash of hate over Kala's features two seconds before she shoved him away from her, the first time she had struck out at him since this began, palms only a portion of their true strength against his chest. Kala had gone paler than he'd ever seen her, her expression shattered. "How fucking dare you even try to compare me to _**her**_, after all she's done to you! I would never! I never _lied_ to you, I never _used_ you, and I sure as hell didn't imply anything that I didn't mean, you _goddamn_ coward! If anyone lied, you did!" she roared back at him. Her hurt and panic were almost a live thing in the room, the girl that had been his starting to break down even as he watched. "I never … _never _would have done that to you. Never."

The hell of it was, he knew that was true. Jay braced himself for another shove, twisting his features into a furious mask. "Oh come _on_. Let go of the fucking ego trip. We knew what this was from the beginning; you were the one who tried to make it something more. C'mon, Princess, stop lying to _yourself_. You like the whole bad boy thing, but guys like me don't turn all _domestic_ and shit, no matter how much you try. Just let it be what it was, a damn good time for a few months, and knock off all this bullshit."

Kala paused, fighting sobs at that point, and just looked at him, through him. The utter shock, the sheer misery in her expression, was a fist to the solar plexus. For a moment, she just stopped completely, the room silent except for their heavy breathing. Again, the gut-churning reminder of her training, the painful way she'd pushed on even when she knew it would gain her nothing. Nothing but more pain. She took a couple of shaky breaths, making him look at her, _see_ her, before she spoke. "Stop," she whispered, her voice shaking, almost breaking. "I love you, Jay. God help me, I fucking love you. Please stop."

Aw, _fuck_, the one thing he was hoping she wouldn't do. Jay would've killed to hear someone say that to him with such sincerity – to hear _Kala_ say it, literal Supergirl admitting she was in love with his sorry fucked-up psychotic ass, was almost too much to bear. Jay's own heart was breaking, and not just in some stupid rom-com way, his chest literally hurt from what he was doing to her. Or maybe that was the oncoming panic attack from his younger self having a full-blown meltdown. The Robin he'd once been would never let a girl like this get away, and never _ever_ would've driven her off so cruelly.

That Robin was _dead_, Jay told himself. He was just what remained. And he knew something she didn't. "Is that supposed to stop the world from spinning? Not the first time you've said it, K, but you were half asleep when you did. Guess you really liked your birthday present, or the sex afterward was just that good."

Kala gasped, her eyes going wide. She had no retort, just horror; he knew she was realizing she'd given herself away back the beginning of November, and he hadn't pointed it out 'til now. Jay saw her eyes close in resignation, and took a deep breath, knowing he couldn't relent now. He _had_ to hit her while she was vulnerable, or she'd never give up.

"For fuck's sake, stop confusing great sex with love. Is that what your problem is, K?" he asked, his own voice sounding ragged. Jay could barely keep up the front of anger. "You really think you're _that_ good, that the Super-vag is gonna fix me and make me the kind of upstanding citizen who can actually be _loved_? Come _on_."

If that didn't break her, nothing would.

…

The world was tilting on its axis, Kala trying desperately to remain stationary. She felt punch-drunk, her chest tight, and that same world was slipping away behind her feet. Once more she was Alice, yawning over an abyss that lead down a dark, dark rabbit hole.

The same rabbit hole she'd dove into months ago; one that had sheltered her, hid her, made her strong. And then she'd decided to bet everything she had on one wild, dangerous hope. Only to find the pretty interior full of thorns, even after she'd thought she had pulled them all from the outside, where they seemed more dangerous. He was right; with the flow of her life, how could she be surprised as he slashed at her?

It had been madness to start up with him in first place; Kala had known that from the beginning, a chorus of people had told her so by now. Even Jay himself had known. And they had been right. They had been _right_. More the fool, more the fool.

Everything hurt, her heart seeming to curl into a fist, her whole body shaking as if from a physical attack. Deep in her heart, something had told her she was reaching too far. Wanting too much. More than she had a right to deserve someone who understood, someone who cared about the person she was under all the bravado and baggage. Someone who wouldn't be burdened by what she was, who could know it all. Someone like her, just as fractured and striving to keep sane.

Only to end up like this.

To the moment where the one person she loved the most, trusted the most, turned out to be a Jabberwock in disguise.

She was disassociating, she knew she was, and Kala struggled to recover, to reach out for something to hold her steady. There was nothing. Her touchstone was crumbling.

It was a lie. All of it. All of these months, he had been lying to her. She had opened her heart, trusted him with everything she had been too ashamed to share with anyone else, and had kept his own confidences safe, hidden him away within her. Letting him breathe secrets underneath her skin and against her hair, whispering her own into his ear.

And now, this betrayal. Against all they had, all they had become to one another. His accusations were like a lash, one she couldn't escape. After all that they had given, after the trust that she had bound to her own heart, now he wounded her unexpectedly. And she could not allow that.

She thought she had learned to be wary of betrayal; another pair of cold blue eyes haunted her nightmares. Dru-Zod had been her ally, almost her friend, and all the while he had manipulated her mind and will to his own purposes. The lives of her family, more precious to her than her own, were nothing more than pawns on a game-board to the General. Kala Kal-El had learnt caution from him; but her heart had not been involved in that transaction. What she had given Jason Todd was far more than just her loyalty, and she had been convinced that he felt the same.

She was wrong. He could not love her and speak to her as he did. She had been a fool; her nightmare of months before return, Dru-Zod trying to warn her that this man desired only her flesh. His wraith had been right. Her love was misplaced. This man did not deserve her devotion.

Even as the girl fought for him, fought for herself, she could feel her weakening. That last had nearly lost her; crying out as if mortally wounded. The girl's tender heart was not meant for these sorts of foolish games; not especially from a man who carried the lion's share of her love. As much as she had begun to feel for Jason Todd, this would not stand. Not like this. This would stop and it would stop _now_.

The Empress blazed up, and he saw her coming, his stubborn angry expression breaking for an instant into fear. It was as well he did, for with that second's fright she restrained herself. Just barely. She still shoved him, _hard_, but not as hard or as fast as she could have. With her powers, she could have thrust his ribcage clear out of his back.

As it was, she flung him across the room from her with a furious cry.

He looked like a ragdoll, swept off his feet, arms trying to windmill for purchase, but he could no more have withstood that blow than he could've ignored a hurricane raging directly in his path. Jason Todd, the betrayer, flew through the air and collided with the opposite wall in a shower of plaster dust and splinters.

The girl's fear spiked then, thinking she'd killed him, but the Empress heard his heartbeat – fear-fast yet steady. He would live, he was no more than bruised, the wall had only been a sorry thing of lath and plaster, half-rotten with age and neglect. Any mere human could have punched through it.

Still, the thought that she might have truly harmed him gave the girl the upper hand again, and the Empress could only seethe impotently. For a long moment, she heard only the shuddered breath of her charge, listening to his heartbeat one last time to assure herself Jason Todd still lived, her gaze still upon the place where he landed. He was momentarily stunned, what with the speed of her blow and the solidity of the wall. He would recover. Then she heard her voice, angry but so tired. Broken. "You've got it all wrong, Red. I … I wasn't trying to save you. _You_ were saving _me_, you asshole."

And with that, she and the child disappeared with a blur of speed, leaving the man that they both loved to fate he had chosen.

…

Jay found himself dazed, coughing from plaster dust, and sore all over. The last thing he remembered was seeing the Empress' face, her eyes cold with rage, and then she'd shoved him – right through a _wall_. He hadn't even had time to open the lead box in his pocket.

He checked for it now, glad to find it undamaged by the fall. Inside the box was a shard of blue kryptonite, something he'd been carrying for a while now in case of emergencies. Kala hadn't looked for it, hadn't asked, but if she had, he would've pointed out their impromptu trip to Canada. So far, he'd always been able to talk the Empress down, but Jay knew as well as Bruce did just how dangerous Kryptonians could be. The difference was, green k would make the Empress furious; he laughed rustily at the thought that he'd gotten hold of a sample of blue _specifically_ because he knew how risky it was to cause her pain.

And he'd hurt her badly enough, just now. Jay groaned, trying to sit up, and was relieved to be able to move everything. He touched the back of his head and winced; a big goose-egg was forming there, from where he'd hit the wall. _Note to self: Make sure to wear the damn helmet if you're going to get physical with a pissed-off Super._

His helmet, and his domino, were in the next room. Jay forced himself to focus on practicalities, on necessary next steps. If he let himself think about what he'd just done, what Kala had said in parting, well … going completely nuts was a distinct possibility. What he _wanted_ to do after all that, after seeing that heartbroken look in Kala's eyes and knowing he'd caused it, was just jump off a roof and end his cursed existence.

No. He couldn't, because if he did, she'd know the fight they just had was a sham, and she'd blame herself for not stopping him. Fuck it, he had to live with himself now. Jay pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead, groaning. His head ached, his back ached, he was probably bruised from shoulders to ankles. And the physical pain was the least of it.

_You were saving __**me**__,_ Kala's voice so fraught with heartbreak, and Jay knew he'd hear it in nightmares. God, why the hell did she pick _him_ to save her? He couldn't even save himself! All Jay wanted was to turn off the world for a while, make it stop hurting, but he couldn't.

Fine, he'd keep going. Joker was still alive, after all. Jay would be damned if he'd let the twisted bastard count a win against him in any away. At least Kala was heading out of Gotham at super-speed, and she'd stay well away from this godforsaken city and all the rogues who wanted her dead.

Jay limped into the other room, and saw Kala's domino beside his. His chest got tight just looking at it. She'd flown off bare-faced, without a thought for her identity. Just more proof that she needed to stay far away from him.

Next steps. He had to stay focused on the next steps, or he'd falter. Jay picked up Kala's domino and shoved it into his pocket. He'd drop it off to Babs somehow; he didn't want to get into a conversation about it. He didn't want to talk to _anyone_, but if he left the domino or took it with him, Babs would be pestering him. She could track the damn things; for all he knew, Bruce could track them too.

Shit, sooner or later both of them were going to chew his ass about this. Jay squared his shoulders and made himself not care. He'd tried to _kill_ Bruce, put Tim in the hospital, done a whole bunch of bad shit. Running Kala out of town didn't even compare. He'd done it for her own good, anyway.

He put his domino and helmet on, and headed down to the ground floor, still moving stiffly. Jay knew he needed to get back to his apartment as soon as possible. He needed to get to his scotch. It was a great pain reliever, as well as anesthetic for the thirteen-year-old Robin in the back of his brain, shrieking in outrage that he'd just destroyed the best thing that had ever happened to him. Jay couldn't explain to his wounded self that he'd done it _because_ Kala was the best thing that ever happened to him.

…

Babs startled at the sound of something clattering through the letter drop downstairs. "The hell?" Dinah said, and headed down to check it out.

Babs pulled up the cameras, and frowned to see one of their black domino masks sitting on the foyer tile. "Looks like one of ours," she called to Dinah, pulling up the exterior cameras. A car had just peeled away from the curb.

She didn't have to wait long for an explanation. Her main phone line rang, and she saw Jay's number as she picked it up. "Oracle here."

"Take Blur off the roster," he said in gravelly tones.

Babs started to smile, thinking they had something to celebrate, and then realized his voice sounded entirely too harsh and cold. Almost the same way he'd answered when he received the comm and cookies she'd sent him at the beginning of summer. "Hood? What's going on?"

"She's out," he told her flatly. "I'm calling it, her clearance to work in Gotham is revoked. We _just_ fucking had the conversation about how every asshole in this town is looking for a trophy kill, and she fits the bill nicely. Then she breaks out flight not even twenty-four hours later. She's done."

Babs stared at the receiver, wondering what had _really_ happened. From the stairwell, she'd heard Dinah's voice. "It's K's domino. What the _hell_?"

Clearing her throat, Babs asked, "I wasn't aware you made those types of decisions, Hood."

He laughed bitterly at her. "I do now. Take me off your roster, too. Fuck this, I work safer alone. I trained your wild-card for you, she's safe enough as long as she doesn't focus on one place, now I'm done. Don't even try to change my mind with cookies. If I want 'em, I'll go to the source."

Throwing an extra layer of encryption on the call, Babs said, "Jay, talk to me. What _happened_ out there?"

"I hit the limit of my bullshit tolerance. B can get his team maimed and killed, and live with the mangst, but I'm not playing that. If she can't follow orders and keep the fucking sideshow powers to a minimum, she's kicked out. For her own safety, O." As Jay continued speaking, Babs thought she could hear an undercurrent of pain in his voice.

She took a deep breath, and asked the dangerous question. "So you kicked your partner out of town. What about your _girlfriend_, Jay?"

Another bitter laugh. "No chatter on the comm, Oracle." He killed the connection, and Babs was left staring at the call tracing. It was his cell, of course, and a moment later it cut off as he removed the sim card. She knew where he was headed, anyway.

Dinah came up behind her, holding Kala's mask. "Why do I have this terrible feeling that everything just went to shit?"

"It sounds like Jay overreacted to Kala using flight," Babs said slowly. "He says he kicked her out of Gotham. And probably broke up with her, too."

"Oh, you _idiot_ boy," Dinah groaned. "Why? The two of them were so cute it was disgusting!"

"That might be part of why," Babs admitted. "He hasn't been able to loosen up like this in a long time. He might've scared himself."

"Want me to go knock some sense into him?" Dinah asked.

Babs looked up at her with a sad smile. "It won't do any good," she replied. "Much as I'd like to smack him upside the head myself, we can't live his life for him. If he made this choice, then he thinks he knows what he's doing."

Dinah just sighed. "Where's Kala?"

"He said she left town," Babs replied. "Last I heard, most of her stuff was at the Manor. Let me ask Dick to check when he gets out of the Wayne Enterprises luncheon."

Dinah rested a hand on her shoulder. "I'm so glad we got our shit together in a reasonable amount of time."

"Weren't you just complaining the other day about not seeing my face for over a year?" Babs replied, but it was an old playful argument between them, and she had bigger worries. Jay and Kala breaking up wasn't the central problem – what both of them would do in reaction _was_. Babs couldn't even begin to predict what all of the fallout from this would be.

…

Deep in the heart of the League of Shadows compound in the Tibesti mountains, far beneath the surface, a long slow change was taking place. It had been coming for decades, and now, at the prompting of an internal clock, a scabrous green glow began to shine in from the treasure in the deeps.

There were men on guard to observe and report such a change, but things in the Libyan contingent were … unsettled, to say the least. The first guard reported to his superior, as expected. And then he mentioned it to two or three of his friends, who indulged in speculation about what all of it meant. One of those made a report in a secret cipher to Lady Shiva, even as the first guard's superior made his expected report to the Demon's Head and his daughter.

As word traveled through the compound, other surreptitious messages were sent out. Talia al Ghul had tapped four men she hoped would be loyal, and all four of them reported to her faithfully. Lady Shiva had three watchers inside, and all of them reported to her just as promptly. One man reported to _both_ of them, but he resolved any questions of where his loyalty actually lay by slipping out of the compound and heading south out of the region.

Two strategists examined the odds. Talia had the advantage of _knowing_ Shiva was there; Shiva was wise enough to suspect that Talia was somewhere nearby. Both of them tried to outguess each other. The prize they both coveted was beyond price.

Two sets of orders went out, both trying to anticipate the other, and the great game began, setting all of the pieces on both sides in motion.


	53. Made a Choice That Was Not Mine

Bruce had already managed to leave – which was incredibly unfair – when Dick's phone chirped. One look at the name, and he knew they had trouble. "I'm sorry, I have to take this," he said, and got some grumpy looks, but Tim waved him on. Dick stepped out to answer it. "What's up, O?"

"B is dealing with a near-riot in the East End. I need you to swing by the Roost when you're done and see if K is there," Babs replied.

Dick frowned. "Why aren't you asking Jay?"

"Because he just dropped off her mask and told me he kicked her out of town," Babs replied grimly.

Dick felt his stomach drop. Babs had warned him against pushing either Jay or Kala to admit their feelings to one another – though they'd admitted it to _him_, separately – because she worried about the situation going to pieces if the delicate balance between them was forced. That sounded like _something_ had shattered. "I'm going now. I have a bad feeling about this."

"Don't draw attention. B already left, and our identities are already at risk," Babs warned.

"I don't think they'll see anything odd about me ditching and leaving Tim to pick up the slack. I'm the playboy brother, remember?" Dick said. She tersely agreed, and he hung up, slipping back into the conference room and to Tim's side. Dick made his expression a parody of solemn worry. "Tim, that was work. I have to go take care of something."

Tim looked up at him, and Dick could almost hear the whirring calculations going on behind those blue eyes. That genius intellect would lead him to the right conclusions, and sure enough Tim nodded. "Work. Sure. Is it another redhead?"

Dick frowned. "Keep your voice down! It really is work this time, I promise."

Tim just rolled his eyes, but Dick was out. And headed back to the Manor as quickly as he could while obeying traffic laws. Alfred met him coming in the garage. "Trouble, Master Richard?" he asked.

"I hope not," Dick said. "Has Kala been here?"

"If so, she did not speak to me," the butler replied.

Dick nodded. The perimeter alarm wouldn't have registered her, either, if she flew in fast enough. He took the stairs two at a time to Jay's room. Kala had had her own, during the summer, but she'd spent more of her time in his lately.

As soon as he opened the door, Dick knew Kala had been here. The last time he'd peeked into this room, letting insistent little Norway in, he'd seen her carry-on bag sitting in the corner. It was gone now, and as Dick searched the closet and drawers, all of Kala's clothes were gone, too. There was no makeup in the bathroom, either. Dick groaned, slapping a hand to his forehead. "Jay, why do you _do_ this?" he asked the empty room.

"What has Master Jason done?" Alfred asked, a trace of worry creeping into that ever-poised voice.

"Apparently kicked Kala out of town," Dick said. He'd been so _happy_ for Jay … and now he'd be happy to knock some sense into him. "I need to call Babs and tell her what we found. But if he turns up here, let me know. I've got plenty to say to him."

Alfred nodded sagely, and Dick went to relay the news to Babs.

…

Jay dumped his helmet and domino in the bunker, reaching for some pain meds and the emergency scotch he kept down here. His head and back still ached, and he washed the pills down with alcohol, savoring the burn in his throat. He carried the bottle with him to the elevator, wanting nothing more than to strip his clothes off and fall in bed. It was way too early for that, and he really needed a shower to get the plaster dust off him, but Jay didn't care. He just wanted to escape the world for a while.

Except, the second he walked into his apartment, Kala's absence hit him like a fist. Her damn burgundy throw was still lying on his bed. One of her shirts was hanging off the top of the bathroom door, which was open, and he could see her toothbrush sitting beside his. If he went into the kitchen area, his fridge would be full of food she'd bought. And if he ignored all of that and laid down in bed, he'd probably smell her goddamn perfume on the pillow.

He couldn't stay here. Another reason asserted itself; everyone in the family knew where he lived, and they would _all_ have opinions on what he'd just done. "Fuck this," Jay muttered, and grabbed a duffel bag. He had boltholes around town, he could rest up somewhere and get some peace and quiet for a day, let the rest of them freak out on their own time. He'd deal with them when he was ready to put up with that bullshit.

Jay quickly threw together a change of clothes, more booze, some more pain meds, and some cash. He didn't need much else. He left his domino and helmet, knowing they could be tracked, and went to the hidden storage compartment in one wall for a backup of each that had never been used on one of Babs' frequencies.

Suitably geared up, Jay paused at the door to look back into his apartment, and felt his heart clench, remembering all the little moments with Kala. Kissing her the morning after, finding that damn rat in the cage, finding out that chicken and pumpkin casserole was pretty good, her waking him from a nightmare and talking him down from a panic attack.

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind, and succeeded only in making it hurt worse. Jay took that as a sign; he was cursed, after all, and everything he tried to make his situation better would only end in pain. The best he could do was keep the pain to himself.

He locked up indifferently, and headed out, just wanting to put some distance between himself and everything that reminded him of what he'd just given up.

…

Adem was playing a game of chess against one of the other men when Tareq walked into the room, his face set in grim lines. "Gear up, we're moving out in an hour," he said.

His opponent, and the other men in the breakroom, all leapt to their feet to comply. Adem did too, of course. They all had to prepare for breaching the Tibesti compound, which was _not_ going to be easy even if the men inside had been compromised already. He put on body armor and all the weaponry Shiva had issued them, plus a few things of his own. All the other men were similarly occupied, not paying attention to one another. In the confusion, it was easy for Adem to pick up his phone, and press and hold down both volume buttons for three seconds.

The phone had been programmed in advance. Holding those buttons sent a message to Talia, that Shiva was on the move. Hopefully, she would already know, perhaps even before he did, but there was no such thing as too much warning.

…

Dick was in no mood for patience; he went directly to Jay's apartment after calling Babs. According to her software, Jay's domino was there.

The series of traps and locks on the door and windows were paranoid, but Dick expected that of Jay. This wasn't the first heavily-secured room he needed to enter, and he had all the training necessary to get past everything Jay could throw at him. The point of most of it was a delaying tactic, anyway – to alert Jay that someone was coming, and give him time to respond. At the moment, Dick didn't particularly care if Jay was waiting for him inside. He had plenty to say, and if Jay wanted a fight, Dick was willing to give him one.

But Jay was nowhere to be seen, and Dick crouched tensely in the foyer, awaiting attack. He heard nothing to indicate that Jay was anywhere in the apartment, and Dick slowly straightened, still wary. "Jay?" he called.

No answer. So Dick began a search, keeping a lookout for anything that might be booby-trapped. He was rather surprised to see how Jay lived; the apartment was a lot cleaner than Dick would've guessed, and there were actual veggies in the fridge – alongside the beer. On closer inspection, two of those beers were actually hard cider, and Dick gave a lopsided smile. Of course Kala had to be responsible for the veggies. She was probably the reason Jay was keeping this place so neat. Dick himself was a bit lackadaisical about housekeeping, but he always tidied up if he was having someone over. And Kala had been here all week.

Jay was _not_ here, and after Dick searched the place, he locked it back up, resetting the traps, and went down to the bunker. His mind flashed back to the summer, finding Jay pitifully hungover, sleeping on the floor, and cuddling a dirty uniform shirt as a pillow. If he was in similar condition now, he wouldn't get any mercy this time. He'd done this to himself. And unlike the last miserable moment, Jay's actions earlier today hurt more than just himself.

Kala had to be heartbroken. Dick wanted to find her, but with her powers, she could be anywhere on the planet. She hadn't taken her domino or her comm. He thought for a moment of getting in touch with Clark … but if Kala hadn't told her family yet, it would only hurt her more to learn they'd found out from someone else.

She was a grown woman, and a powerful metahuman besides. Kala could take care of herself. When she wanted to talk, she'd call or show up, and Dick would hug her and commiserate. His job now was to locate Jay.

Dick rode the elevator down, only to find that Jay wasn't in the bunker, either. He took out his phone and called Babs. "He's not here. I don't know his place well enough to accurately tell when he was here last. There are groceries in the fridge, so either he plans to be back soon, or he doesn't care if they spoil."

"This is not looking good," Babs admitted. "I'll try to locate him by other means, but we've got more trouble brewing."

"What now?" Dick asked.

Babs gave him a quick summary of the near-riot Jay and Kala had been sent to prevent. "And now we have a mob of women marching in the streets of the East End, holding up signs that read 'Free Susana Torres' and 'Self Defense' and 'Resolve to Resist'. What worries me the most is that some of them just have red and black harlequin patterns on their signs."

A chill ran down Dick's spine at that. "Great. Because Harley's the example people need to follow."

"I'm not sure how this is going to pan out, but I've got cameras on it, and I just sent Canary and Huntress to infiltrate," Babs said. "B is on it, too. The luncheon is almost over, and I'm pulling Red Robin as soon as he gets out, too."

"Jay and K couldn't have picked a worse time," Dick muttered.

"No, they couldn't have. But they'll have to take care of themselves for now. I can't reach either of them, and we have work to do. I'm not looking forward to what happens if these women run up against Dent's men." Babs' voice was level, but Dick thought he heard a note of worry in it. Understandable, of course; he was worried about Jay and Kala, and worried about what might happen to the women protesting, too.

"I'll gear up and head over," Dick said. "You're right, the two of them can wait. If this blows up, it'll take all of us to keep the lid on."

"Let's hope it stays civil," Babs said, but both of them knew how unlikely that was.

…

There were advantages to being the highest-profile 'guest' in Arkham Asylum. Joker's cell didn't get searched for contraband, and once he'd gotten hold of that cell phone, he didn't have to worry about losing it. The guards who'd been bribed at first were now aware that Joker's men knew where their families lived, and they walked softly.

Lately he'd been sending as much information as he'd been receiving. Most of his men were dutifully following orders, despite the unsatisfying end to the gala. A few had broken off, and Joker would deal with them later. For now, he had other plans.

He woke from a pleasant dream of bloodshed and mayhem to the faint vibration of the phone. The message was from Jonny Frost, and it simply said 'Situation developing'. Then there was a link to a news article, and a bunch of photos.

At first Joker wondered if good ol' Jonny-Jonny had cracked up, because he couldn't see why the man thought he'd care about a little domestic violence gone wrong. It was _funny_, slightly, that the woman had shot her grandkid in the process of killing the husband, but not funny enough to be worth reporting.

Then he saw the coverage of the protest march. And the banners. Those damn black and red harlequin diamonds. Joker's vision flashed red, and he tightened his fists, imagining Harley's throat in his grip. If only he'd taken her out permanently… but it was so delightfully amusing to watch her come crawling back every time. He could never quite bring himself to finish her off.

Not a mistake he'd make again. Joker gave out orders; his men were to target anyone holding up a harlequin sign. If the rest wanted to join the fight, then sure, but the goal was to teach a lesson to those who dared make Harley their banner. They needed to see how false their inspiration was.

He thought of Harley, and his mind cross-patched to that girl, the night of the gala, the one who'd been wearing Harley's colors. Was that deliberate? Was she bait? Batsy didn't usually play like that, but the fact remained, the Blur had been there in plainclothes, and she'd fallen into his hands. It couldn't be a coincidence, but if it wasn't deliberate, then it was simply fate. He'd had tried to find out more about her, but facts were scarce, and not even gossip was that prevalent.

Joker pulled up his phone's browser, and searched for news of the Blur. Unlike the previous slim offerings, he found several news articles dated today. He chuckled to himself as he began to read.

…

Roman Sionis only had to be patient for one more day. New Year's Day was a holiday, so of course the courts were closed. Tomorrow he'd be released on bail, and he'd make all the appropriate gestures of humility, and within the hour he'd be sitting down with Ms. Li to get things back in order.

Patience had never been his strong suit. He paced the cell, trying to bleed off some of his restless energy. The background noise of the jail kept him on edge, cell doors clanging and men talking gruffly. Half of them were pretenders, he figured, trying to puff themselves up so as not to be targeted as weaklings. Roman himself didn't need to bother with that. His face, and his name, were well-known in Gotham City. None of the others would dare try him. They knew what would happen if they did.

First things first, when he got out, was taking a strip of hide off that damned Red Hood. The bastard had always been a thorn in Roman's side, making _Black Mask_ his patsy just to get Joker. That still rankled. And now Hood was working _with_ the Bats again, which only made things worse. The extremely lucrative black market organ transplant business was a bust, now, because of Hood. Roman wanted him _dead_.

The cold fact was, though, that Hood was damned hard to catch. He had metahuman backup now, too. Ms. Li had kept abreast of the rumors about Blur, and Roman's mood soured at the thought. Why the hell Batman was letting a meta run loose in Gotham? It looked like that might've been the price of bringing Hood back into the fold. Hood would stop killing if his pretty Amazon could stick around.

Just what Gotham needed, someone with superpowers. Although Blur seemed young, not as experienced as Wondy or Troia. Roman shuddered at the thought of _either_ of those in his town. The stupid lasso alone was all kinds of trouble. Maybe something could be done about Blur, if they could catch her. His men had reported that she hadn't had powers at first, so either she was real good at faking it or _something_ had knocked her abilities out. If only they could figure out what that was, and replicate it, she'd be no more than human. And humans were easier to kill.

Someone a few cells over burst out yelling, and Roman whirled toward the sound, his fists clenching. It was only an argument between two neighboring cells; the men couldn't do anything with bars between them, so they settled for shouting insults that got more improbable and more graphic by the moment. The sound made Roman's head ache, and the adrenaline dumped into his system by the sudden commotion only made it worse.

With his temples throbbing, he roared, "Shut the hell up!" The absence of a specific threat made them both fall quiet; they knew what Black Mask could do, if he wanted, and their imaginations were worse than anything he could say. At least it quieted them for the moment.

Roman knew he was walking out into a jungle. Joker was back in Arkham, but that rarely stopped him for long. And Ms. Li had kept him informed of the moves Two-Face was making. He'd have to deal with both of their men. Joker's goons weren't always the best at sticking to a plan, so he'd try to work around them for the most part. Two-Face would get most of his attention. The former DA needed to learn his place. It would be a long, annoying battle, but Roman knew he'd come out on top in the end. He'd done it before. If he could just keep the Bats out of his way for a while, he'd be fine.

Of course, keeping the Bats at bay was the problem. Roman paced, his head throbbing. There was so much he needed to be doing, and he resented the Bats and the rest of Gotham's criminals for putting him back in this position of having to climb to the top again. He understood Sisyphus' torment.

One thing was certain: whoever first crossed his path once he was free would deeply regret it. Black Mask intended to vent his rage on the first acceptable target.

…

Dinah hefted her sign – she'd gone with 'Resolve to Resist' as a slogan, since it was catchy – and squared up at the end of the street. She was near the front of the crowd, with strangers on all sides; Helena was further back in the group. The march seemed to have no official leader, but she'd identified several women who seemed to be directing things. The rest were following along; they were angry and afraid, ready to do something, but so far they hadn't entirely united in a single goal.

When they did, things could get ugly _fast_. Dinah felt the pressure of their combined emotions like a rumbling of thunder, just waiting to build up enough charge to lash out with lightning. A mob was a strange thing, and women who had never raised a hand in their own defense might be howling for blood before this was all over. Dinah kept her cool in the midst of it – she was apart from them all, though none of them realized it.

She was wearing glasses fitted with a micro-camera, and the earrings and necklace that served as speakers and microphone, so it was as if Babs was right here with her, riding along in her mind. Working this closely with someone for years, sometimes it felt like Babs lived inside her head, like they were two halves of the same person.

"Look left," Babs murmured, and Dinah did, her gaze settling on one of the key individuals. She held aloft a banner that read 'HE HAD IT COMING!' and Babs confirmed her identity after a moment's search. "Andrea Schaefer. She's a coworker and friend of Marisol Torres, formerly Wakefield. Stay close to her."

Dinah did so. The march was headed for the police station, and she hoped the cops would stay calm. She didn't want to see the mob turn violent, if she could help it. But there wasn't a great deal she could do, other than minimize injury, if it did. Dinah was too steeply outnumbered.

The front of the mob arrived at the police station, blocking the street. Andrea Schaefer pushed forward, holding her sign high, and all of them began to shout "Free Susana Torres!" Dinah added her voice, blending in, but she watched the station and the edges of the crowd. Sure enough, three cops came out, two of them female officers. _Better than they did earlier today,_ Dinah thought. The three spaced themselves evenly in front of the station, the male cop in the middle, and stood at parade rest. All three were uniformed, gazing impassively into the middle distance and not making eye contact with the protesters. For their part, the crowd of women didn't approach too closely, and Dinah hoped it would all turn out all right.

They stood in the cold, milling in place, their anger vibrating in the frosty air. No one had bullhorns, but none of them needed them. There were enough people to make their voices heard, as long as they united on a single phrase. For half an hour or so, they lined the street in front of the police station. Dinah brushed past Helena a few times, getting a subtle nod to let her know the Huntress was okay. So far, so good.

And then Dinah heard a car horn honking repeatedly. The police hadn't addressed the fact that they were blocked the road, mostly because the slight amount of traffic saw them and turned off before reaching this block. This car, however, had pulled up close to the protesters, and the man behind the wheel laid on the horn angrily.

"All right, ladies, clear the street," said one of the female officers. "We can't obstruct traffic. Move back to the sidewalk, please."

Dinah and Helena both stepped smartly back, hoping to incite the rest to follow them. But the man driving rolled his window down to shout, "You heard the cop! Move it, bitches!"

_Ah, hell,_ Dinah thought, as the energy of the crowd seemed to thicken. One of the women she had identified as a potential leader stepped forward instead, and smacked her sign against the hood of the car. "_You_ move! We're done runnin' from shitheels like you!"

He revved the engine, all three cops moved forward, sternly telling the protesters to step back, and another woman ran up to the side of the car and shattered the passenger window with her sign. The bright crackle of glass seemed to ignite the women, and they closed in. "_Fuck_," Dinah muttered, dropping her sign and weaving through the crowd. The man threw the car in reverse, fishtailing wildly backwards up the street, but the protesters had become a mob now, and they chased him.

"Reinforcements incoming," Babs murmured in her ear. Dinah gritted her teeth; she didn't want the boys jumping into this, but what else could they do? Kala was offline, it was just her and Helena here, and even as she watched, the man's car slammed into a parked truck, coming to an abrupt halt.

Andrea Schaefer was in the front, and she reached through the driver's window, grabbing the man and trying to pull him through. The cops were racing alongside the crowd, shouting at them to stop, but the mob couldn't hear them. Dinah shoulder-checked a tall woman screaming, "Get the bastard!" And still, somehow, Helena got there first.

Helena dropped her shoulder and ran into Andrea, hard, knocking her away from the car. Dinah was right behind her, and threw herself in front of the driver's door. "_No!_" she shouted, spreading her arms wide, and a dozen furious faces glared at her, signs raised threateningly. "No violence! We're not like them! This isn't how we win!"

Meanwhile Helena pressed close behind her, speaking urgently to the driver. "Stay calm, sit still, keep your hands where they can see them and your mouth shut. We're gonna get you out of this, just play it cool."

The mob hesitated, just slightly. Dinah heard the choppy sound of a helicopter overheard, and knew it had to be the local news. Wonderful timing as ever. "Everybody take a deep breath," she said, her voice clear and calm. "We're here to protest abuse, not perpetrate it."

The women lowered their signs a fraction … and one of the female officers moved forward, slapping handcuffs around Andrea Schaefer's wrists. Dinah's jaw dropped; making an aggressive move just now would only redirect the mob onto the cops! Before she could do anything, one of the women behind Andrea bashed the cop over the head with a sign, and all hell promptly broke loose.

Dinah swore under her breath. The driver of the car chose that moment to panic, shift it into drive, and stomp the accelerator. Luckily for everyone, his bumper was hung up on the truck, and for a few seconds his tires just squealed, giving the protesters time to leap out of the way. It was still a very near thing; one woman got clipped by the fender, but she jumped right back up and into the fray, so she either wasn't that badly hurt or too hopped-up on adrenaline to feel it.

The women were attacking the police, and more cops poured out of the station like angry wasps out of a disturbed hive. "This is getting ugly," Dinah said, for Babs, and grabbed Helena's arm. "Let's go while we can."

Helena looked at the protesters, most of whom were only armed with light sticks or poles to which they'd affixed their signs. "They're going to get hurt, bad," she argued.

"And we're in plainclothes, the cops will think we're with them," Dinah said. In truth, she didn't feel like she had a side in this fight. She could sympathize with both. The cops were trying to keep order and prevent incidents like what almost happened to the rude driver. The women were fed up with taking abuse and feeling unheard by those in power.

Unfortunately, once things had reached this stage, there wasn't much she or Helena could do out of uniform. Not even the Canary Cry would be much help, and Dinah wouldn't unleash it on civilians anyway.

"Backup is five minutes out," Babs informed her. That would have to be good enough. Helena followed her lead, and Dinah dashed for the van where they'd left their uniforms. Behind them, she heard glass shattering, and an incoherent roar of angry voices.

…

Dick had been called off the search for Jay to deal with the protest gone wrong. He arrived to a scene that made his heart sink: police were using pepper-spray liberally, and protesters had become rioters, throwing bricks at the cops. Worse, the group had grown in size in just the few minutes since Dinah and Helena had left. Even as he watched, women were running in from nearby streets, brandishing improvised weapons.

Deciding where to jump in was crucial. What he wanted most was to create some space between the police and the protesters, give both sides a chance to back off, breathe, and think. He was long since accustomed to the kind of complex math required, and had picked his spot and readied his grapnel, when a shrill scream drew his attention.

Most of the noise on both sides so far had been guttural and angry, occasional spikes of pain, but this scream was higher, sharper, sounding of fear. Dick's head turned quickly, and he felt his stomach grow cold. A dozen or so men had arrived, flanking the protesters, and had cut in amongst them to single out one woman still holding her sign. It happened to be a a harlequin pattern sign, and the men were wearing clown masks.

"Joker's men are on the scene," Dick said tersely, and leapt down to deal with them. Even as he jumped, he saw the three closest men all pummeling the woman, a fourth grabbing her sign and ripping it in half. A bright flash in one man's fist, and Dick realized one was stabbing her repeatedly in the back.

His sticks took out that attacker first, and he whirled to the rest. "On your six," Tim's voice said in his comm, and Red Robin swooped in to grab the injured woman and get her away from the scene so they could get her medical treatment. More screams rang out from the opposite side of the crowd, and Dick risked a glance amidst the fight.

"Oh, _crap_," he muttered into the comm. "O, we've got Dent's boys here too. And the protesters and cops are stuck in the middle."

"Understood. I'm pulling in all the resources I can," Babs replied, and Dick found himself too busy to focus on anything other than the next armed assailant.

…

Babs already knew Jay wasn't near his comms. She sent him an email, then texted his phone, then called. She sent the override that made his usually-silent phone ring loudly, but none of her overtures were answered. Cursing under her breath, she had to admit defeat for the moment; she had no idea where Jay was, and if he wasn't paying attention to the Bowery, there was nothing else she could do.

She switched to trying to reach Kala. The young Super had to be distraught, but Babs knew she had the professionalism to shove that aside and do the work. _If_ she could be reached. Honestly, with her senses, Babs was hoping she'd turn up at the scene, but so far she hadn't. So she ran down the list again, sending email and a text and call and then another call.

None were answered, and Babs began to seriously worry. Then again, it was possible that Kala could've flown anywhere on the planet, even the Fortress of Solitude – or the surface of the moon. Depending on how brutally Jay had phrased things, either one might've seemed like a refuge. She could just be beyond the reach of cell phone networks.

Still, Babs worried. She could hear the police scanner in the background summoning reinforcements to the embattled station, and Helena and Dinah returning to the fray. And there was another cause for worry in the back of her mind, one that had plagued her for months. At least that, she could do something about, and Babs sent a quick message to the Cass and Steph to tell them to hold fast. Then she could devote her full resources to the situation here at home without worrying about the pair of them.

And it was quickly becoming ugly. As fast as Bruce, Dick, Dinah, and Helena took out fighters, more arrived. Tim had rushed one woman off to get medical help, and had returned just in time to pull a badly-wounded police officer away from the front lines. Emergency medical had arrived, but they were holding back several blocks away, and Tim set himself to ferry the injured away from the fight.

Babs had several cameras on the scene, mostly from the police station, and she kept a running flow of information to her team as they tried to contain the situation. It was long past 'keeping the peace', at this point; she'd settle for 'keeping the body count down'. With no answer from Kala or Jay, she assumed she only had the pieces in play, and made decisions accordingly.

…

Batman was a smooth, almost mechanically-precise weapon of war in the midst of chaos. He had come in on the flank where Joker's men had arrived, and was systematically dropping them, though more and more kept showing up. The original group of protesters were thoroughly panicked now, trying to stampede over the cops or push through the gangs on either side. Cornered, they were dangerous.

A gunshot rang out, and part of his soul froze over as it always did at that sound. Batman didn't let it affect him anymore. He turned with the rhythm of the fight, looking for the shooter. Three more shots in rapid succession, a pause, then a fourth and fifth as his gaze locked on the woman who'd drawn a cheap chrome revolver from her purse. She was shooting at Dent's men, and one of them was down clutching his chest, but the other shots seemed to have gone wild. Not unexpected, for an inexperienced shooter in a panic. It could have been much worse. At least there were no children present today.

Another woman snatched up a fallen sign and started swinging it at Joker's men, trying to push a way through. Instead they turned on her, and Batman ducked his current opponents to reach them. He wasn't fast enough to stop the first punch from rocking her head sideways, but she fought back grimly, ramming the wooden stake the sign had been nailed to at the clown-masked goon's throat. That one went down with a gurgle, and Batman caught the next with a flying elbow that opened up a brief pathway of escape.

Several women darted through, and Batman let them go. His purpose here was to deal with the Joker's men, and Dent's. Even as he squared up to more of them, he heard the distinctive hissing of a tear-gas grenade. It landed nearby, and despite the eye protection afforded by his cowl, Batman wished for a respirator. Then a man in a clown mask grabbed it and flung it back at the cops, laughing wildly. Disorder broke out among the police, not all of whom were in riot gear.

"Get the protesters out of here," Black Canary said, and Batman was aware of her and Huntress on the other side of the fight, having somewhat more success battling Two-Face's men. He and Nightwing had the more unpredictable set of opponents.

There was no time, in a fight like this, to be angry at Red Hood or Blur. Not even time to wonder where they were and why they hadn't joined the fight. No one had seen fit to update him, but after Blur exposing her flight when both of them went out earlier, he could've guessed at the outcome. That it left Gotham's protectors in diminished capacity was something Batman would hold them accountable for another time. Now, there was only the eternal struggle, trying to protect his city and its people.

"Behind you!" Huntress shouted, and Canary swore. Batman glanced over, and saw a hundred women with improvised weapons charging toward the fight. The men wearing Two-Face's half-and-half uniforms barely got a chance to look up before the throng was upon them, and he saw one man go down as a mousy-looking woman with berserker's eyes bashed his face with a heavy padlocked chain.

"Down, B!" Nightwing yelled, and Batman dropped and rolled without needing to think of it. Something on their side boomed, a percussive wave running through the crowd, and then a rattle of shrapnel fell on them all. _Car bomb,_ Batman thought, typical Joker tactics. Some of his own people had been wounded by it, but more were racing to the fight.

"We're losing containment," Oracle said, a note of worry in her digitized voice.

"Get up and out," Batman said to his team. "We'll regroup – can't let them outflank us." Even as he spoke, he knew the chaos was spreading. They might be able to suppress this street, but it would only break out again somewhere else.

As he shot his grapnel for the nearest roof, it turned out he _did_ have time for a coal of resentment to burn. This was Red Hood's chosen sector of the city, and any decent detective would know that after the earlier confrontation, tempers would be short and emotions would be high all over the Bowery. So why had his second son abandoned his responsibilities?

_He put love before justice,_ a cold voice from the bottom of his own soul answered him, and Batman's mouth tightened to a grim line.


	54. Give Me a Sign

Jay's heartbroken meandering had led him to a familiar location: the kids' old building. The roof damage alone would've condemned the place, but Joker had set fire to it, too, and now Jay stood in the snow staring at the burned-out walls. Strange to believe that only a few short months ago he'd been living here, and his biggest worry was not letting a pack of runaway teens figure out that their token adult was really the Red Hood.

It would've been nice to stay there, again. A certain kind of symmetry. Back then, he'd only been pretending to have no other choices, to be one of the people so broken down by life and circumstance that any four walls was a palace. Now, his own home hurt too much to look at, and the rootless life of a vagrant seemed oddly attractive. No ties meant nothing to lose, after all.

There were other buildings around that were still fairly livable, if your standards were low. And Jay's definitely were. He picked one nearby, checked the entrances for any signs of recent occupation, and broke in.

He had brought only the necessities: weapons, ammo, and booze. No comms, no phone, no means by which uber-hacker Babs could track him down. The domino he wore and the helmet beside him had both never been linked into her systems, and weren't wired for communications. Peace and quiet – well, quiet. At the moment he was trying to drown the obnoxious thirteen-year-old Robin in his head, at least long enough to stop the screaming. The only problem was, as the level of scotch in the bottle fell, his younger self started to seem more solid and real.

Jay could almost see himself, at thirteen years old all knees and elbows and fierce scowl, hunkered down beside him. "So this is how it goes, huh?" the kid would ask, his tone full of bitter recrimination. "You blow up the best thing that ever happened to you, then crawl in a hole and drink yourself to sleep? That's fucking pathetic, man. I had more balls, and I wasn't even old enough to have hair on 'em."

"Shut up," Jay growled aloud to the phantom in his mind. "You had no fucking clue. You thought Bruce was gonna make everything better 'cause he was the Bat and he was a grownup and he looked like he had his life together. That's how you got killed."

"You think I was clueless? You thought _Talia_ was gonna make everything better," Robin snapped. "Turns out she was just stringing you along."

"Or she's as fucked up as me. Dunno which is worse," Jay grumbled, taking another long pull of the scotch. Who else did he know who drank expensive scotch like it was water, and never talked about what was going on in her mind if she could conceivably help it? Yeah, some of his habits were his own, but Talia had reinforced them.

Robin bared his teeth and jeered. "Kala was right to be pissed about her. She knows what you won't admit – your dumb ass isn't even over all that with Talia. You _know_ she's trouble, you know that at _best_ the two of you make each other worse, and yet you're still so afraid of getting slammed into the concrete again that you can't say you love the woman who makes you and herself _better_ when you're together. Coward."

Jay didn't have a retort for that. He just snarled under his breath and drank again. Sooner or later the voice would stop.

Leaving Talia hadn't hurt like this. He'd been so numb with rage and betrayal that he'd walked out of her London flat feeling nothing at all. Cold and clear, just planning what to do next. Killing her had been on the table for a few minutes, at most, but even if he _was_ her science project – even if he was in her bed mostly to distract him from killing Bruce – she'd still risked her life to bring him back. Letting her live made them square, and he wasn't like her. He didn't make those same kinds of brutal calculations with people he cared about.

Until now. Until he used everything he knew about Kala to hurt her badly enough that she'd let him go.

Jay tilted the bottle up again, feeling scotch burn down his throat and praying for blissful oblivion to descend on him soon. When things fell apart with Donna, it had hurt – hearing Dick's name on her tongue in the middle of lovemaking couldn't do anything _but_ hurt – but he'd pretended it didn't. He couldn't pretend anymore. This burned to the bottom of his soul.

"Because you hurt someone like you, stupid," Robin piped up helpfully. "Kala's like you. She's been hurt, she's been used, she's broken inside like you are. She knows the worst of you and she accepted you the way you were. She loved you the way you are. And you fucked it up _on purpose_ 'cause you're a big dumb chickenshit."

"Shut up. I didn't do it because I was afraid of her. I did it because I was afraid _for_ her, pipsqueak," Jay snarled. For a moment he reflected that anyone who stumbled upon him would think he'd lost his marbles, raving in the dark interior of the abandoned building to an empty room, clutching a half-empty bottle of scotch. He didn't care anymore. Anyone who saw him would probably regret it painfully soon after.

Robin just glared at him, and Jay continued, "I'm _cursed_, don't you get that? Everything I touch dies or gets ruined. Everyone who cares about me gets their heart broken. Look at everything in my life, and the trail of wreckage behind me. K doesn't deserve that."

"She's a _Super_, moron, you think they can't handle your bullshit? Have you seen what her dad can do? C'mon!" Robin groused.

"I _know_ she's a Super. She still thinks people are basically _good_ most of the time. The last thing she needs is my kind of bullshit. She deserves _better_," Jay argued, and every word was a knife in his chest.

His younger self just looked disgusted. "She really did love you. You know that, right? Quit bullshitting yourself."

"Fuck off," Jay spat, not being able to argue it.

"You're gonna wind up a lonely bitter old man, dying by yourself and probably not found before you're a black stain on the floorboards," Robin informed him. "All because you won't let anybody in."

"Yeah? Bruce doesn't let anybody in either. Works for him," Jay shot back.

Robin snorted. "Right. Selina won't let him keep her _out_, but he's softened up with time. He might even admit he cares about more than Gotham before he finally croaks. _You_ coulda had that, and you're not even an old man yet. But no, you had to go and fuck it up. It wasn't enough to burn that bridge, you had to nuke the damn thing."

At least Kala was safe. That was the thing Jay had to hold onto. He drank deeply, and the bottle came up empty, but he had another. This was shaping up to be the start of an epic drunk like the time when Kala left over the summer. Only no one was going to want to haul him out of it.

Robin wouldn't let up, reminding him, "She promised she'd stay, when everyone else didn't, and she would have. We both know that. Just as much as we both know that the feelings couldn't have been more mutual. It wasn't just to scare her out of town; you were too scared to find out who _you _could have been if she stayed. You were too scared to lose your edge. Maybe if we're lucky, she'll come back once she figures out your bullshit, because you know she will. Kala knows all your secrets; you think she's not smart enough to figure out what you did there once she has time to think about it? And I hope she kicks your ass for being an idiot before she kicks you back into shape."

Jay just laughed darkly. No, he'd hit Kala hard enough to make her stay gone. His younger self just hadn't quite had the optimism beaten out of him yet, but Jay knew a crowbar and some heartbreak would fix that. He was the living proof, after all.

One more long pull on the second bottle, and his vision finally got blurry enough that he couldn't see the bright primary colors of the Robin uniform in his mind's eye any longer. Sleep was near, the hard sleep of flirting with alcohol poisoning, and Jay welcomed it.

…

Eyes closed against the world surrounding her, lids swollen and gritty, Kala leaned against the well-worn wall. No urge to move, trying harder than she wanted just to think of nothing, tune out from all of her senses and disappear inside herself. Because whenever she let herself lose that controlled mindlessness, it was like a swift uppercut, a brutal blow to the stomach. That prompted a bitter laugh from a throat that still hurt from her breakdown earlier, screaming into the thinness of the air so close to space. Her tears had frozen on her cheeks as she'd broken down utterly. Once away from the broken-down tenement, the Empress had let her go to be alone with her sorrow, quiet almost as quickly as she had risen. Kala had no memory of how long she had been up there, nor any idea of when she'd come down. When she had truly come back to herself, somehow her fraught mind had brought her back here, to the Monarch Theater. It was fitting in a way; the building was as much a shambles as Kala herself felt.

Worse, as hard as she fought to close her mind off from the chaos, using every currently useful tip Dr. Marrin ever taught her, memories of their time together were making a sinister sneak-attack on her brain. She mentally twisted away, slamming the door in her head quickly, but not quite quickly enough.

_You should sleep in tomorrow, tell the family to kiss your sweet Kryptonian ass. And—_

No warning, like the whisper of his kris through the air, and she was doubled-over again, fighting tears of pain and rage. By now, Kala had thought she was growing numb to it. Even now, her recall was too perfect, remembering their tired amusement on that night. The irony; now that he no longer wanted her, with himself or here within Gotham, his ghost wouldn't let her go.

How clear his voice still was in her head, despite hours of trying to fade it, banish it. She pressed her face into her up-drawn knees, pointedly ignoring any moisture that dampened her skin. Damn him for doing this to her; after all that they had been through, after all she thought that they had meant to one another. And damn herself for being a fool in love, believing that she could trust Red Hood with something as fragile as her heart when they had apparently been nothing more than a way to scratch one another's itches. And damn herself also for hiding in the dark, broken, over a _boy_. A boy who didn't even know how to deal with his feelings. A boy who she had thought she'd known. Hiding in the very building where the boy had once lived. He was right; she truly was a fool.

_C'mon, Supergirl, you have to close in eventually._

And God help her, she had. Kala had let him in closer than she had ever planned, close enough for wounds to be fatal if the weapon was sharp enough. It had been her own fault, start to finish, she had been the one who let him in in the first place. She'd been the fool to fall for Jay when she knew that the Bats could be as changeable as the weather.

_I'm thinkin' we need to team up a lot more often. Give 'World's Finest' a whole new meaning. Red and Black, the new face of the Supers and Bats. Whaddaya think?_

She hadn't known just how hard she had fallen until she had driven off Sebast in defense of a relationship they had never put a name to, only to have him shatter this glass house they had never totally acknowledged that they were sharing.

_You're not gettin' rid of me, K. And you'd better not disappear on me like before._

Only to have him turn around and do it to her. Everything, everything they had said to each other, all she had thought she understood between them. The Jay she had thought she knew. Gone in an instant of vicious, cruel words that she didn't understand as the last four months were turned entirely on their head. It sounded so dramatic this way, but she was quite literally warming herself on the ashes of what she had thought life would be.

_Dammit, I don't want anything from you, Kala. I just … I want __**you**__, for fuck's sake. _

When had that changed? He'd spoken the words and she'd _thought_ he meant so much more than mere _sex_. Kala laughed bitterly, a broken sound; Dru-Zod had tried to warn her. Her nightmare had turned prophetic. All Jay wanted was a reliable working partner and a damn good lay. She shuddered, her body tensing, the Empress growling at the base of her brain. Kala did not tend to give herself so lightly, for lust alone. In all but one relationship, there had been _more_ than desire and compatibility. Respect, trust, affection, _love_. She needed love, craved it, and everyone around them seemed to think she'd found it with Jay.

_Fuck what other people think, this is you and me._

Kala managed another jagged laugh, at that. Jay had said it after that disastrous call from Sebast. As one relationship burned on the pyre of secrets she'd kept, Jay had all but vowed not to do the same. He'd been contemptuous of Sebast for walking away. And then a few short months later, he'd done so much worse. Now she'd lost them both, the two men who completed both halves of her strange dual life.

_I know what you really are. The ultimate badass wrapped up in a pretty package. Guts and brains and one hell of a super-speed spin-kick. _

Such sweet words, and she'd heard them in the _Fortress_. Not even that would be a refuge now. Kala couldn't go there without remembering taking Jay to see it. The wonder in his gaze. Watching her people's history through his eyes. The way he'd practically salivated over the armory. And she'd shown him the darkest part of herself, shown him the recording of General Zod's trial so that he truly understood who the Empress was.

_Yeah, you have the power to be a weapon, but you're more than that. Given that I've been armed and aimed by someone else, I'd know the difference between being some__**one**__ and being some__**thing**__. Know what you are, K, but don't ever think that's __**all**__ you are._

He'd taught her new ways to deal with her demons – and he'd never been afraid of them. Jay had never shied back from the Empress. Kala sobbed to remember that, how much she'd trusted him even with the most broken parts of herself. All so he could shatter her heart, her whole _world_, in the end.

She'd tuned out her hearing, forcing herself not to listen to the city, knowing she'd be half-listening for Jay's heartbeat, his voice, and hoping to hear him take it all back. Instead, she heard a thread of music in her memory, something classic in three-quarter time. The banner flashed across her mind's eye: The Art of the Waltz. Jay had bought her a dress – a stunning, gorgeous dress – and had danced the night away with her. He'd even carried her across the threshold back at his apartment. How could he be so incredibly thoughtful and tender and romantic, and then tell her to her face that it meant nothing? Kala couldn't make sense of any of it, couldn't reconcile this morning's cold words with everything she'd been so certain of. And the contradiction tore at her until she thought she might go mad.

All she could do was weep, hoping to cry herself out, hating herself for the weakness of it. Her own mother would never have carried on so, especially over something like this, but she was her father's daughter as well. And even wild hearts could be broken.

Kala wasn't aware of it, but a few miles away Jay was drowning his pain in liquor, even as she drowned hers in tears.

…

Steph and Cass had spent the last several months in surveillance, living like ghosts in the arid mountains. They stayed on the move and undercover, circling the area where the Tibesti compound was located. Babs kept them well supplied with intel, tech, and basic necessities; the girls didn't like stealing food from the regular people here, and stealing from Shiva's people could get them noticed. Luckily Babs had the resources and connections to make sure the right crates fell off the right trucks in the right places, without a whisper reaching Lady Shiva _or_ the League of Shadows.

Some of that tech included tiny, unobtrusive tracking devices, and Cass had managed to place a dozen of them onto the shoes of people working for Shiva. Steph had stuck another ten onto vehicles, so they had a map of where Shiva's personnel were. So far none of the trackers had been noticed. They were thin and light, dust-colored, and irregularly shaped, easy to mistake for a pebble. They transmitted in infrequent bursts on little-used frequencies, with heavy encryption. So far no one had discovered them, but then, Shiva didn't know Batman had people in the region.

The League of Shadows did, and Steph had had another hair-raising encounter with the Daughter of the Demon herself. Literally – a sudden dust storm blew in, and she'd been caught in the street for a moment before diving into the closest shop to get away. The sharp, gritty wind had blown sand in into her eyes and disarranged her niqab slightly, despite her attempts to hold the fabric close.

She'd had a wardrobe emergency, her first couple months in South Sudan, when the leg of her pants got caught as she jumped into a truck. To Steph, the tear was an annoyance to be stitched up later, but the other passengers had taken it more seriously. At the time she hadn't spoken more than a dozen words in Arabic, and the two women who produced safety pins to fix her pant leg hadn't spoken any English, but they got it pinned up with almost surgical efficiency. Steph had been grateful that one of the _first_ words she learned was 'Thank you'.

Standing in the meager protection of the shop while the sand rattled against the door, Steph hadn't been surprised when another woman stepped close to tuck a lock of her blonde hair back under the dark fabric. "Shukraan," Steph said, the word as familiar on her tongue as 'Thanks' had once been.

And then she'd looked up, and seen those same light green eyes, and known she was standing _well_ inside the range of one of the deadliest people on the continent. Steph had frozen, but all Talia did was murmur under her breath, "You should go home." In English, so it was obvious that she knew who she was talking to.

For that, Cass had hunted Talia for three days, finally locating the abandoned farmhouse where Talia had been staying. Cass had left a Batarang on her pillow, and Steph had chided her, "Babs said she would help us if she could." Cass had just shaken her head. She didn't trust Talia's motives.

Tonight, with the new year still newly minted, Steph woke up to a weird noise outside their shelter. She threw back the camouflaged tarp covering the entrance, and saw by moonlight two medium-sized striped doglike forms sniffing the ground. Steph had gotten used to the wildlife over the past couple years, and she wasn't particularly afraid, even if striped hyenas _were_ the largest carnivores in Libya. It was strange for them to come so close … but then she remembered spilling a bit of her protein bar last night. Normally they didn't eat close to the tent, and buried their trash far away to avoid the attention of scavengers. But even a small amount of food got the attention of the locals.

At the sight of her, the two hyenas scampered off, and Steph groaned. "What is my life coming to, that this is _normal_?" she asked aloud. "If you told me back in the day that I'd see hyenas right after I woke up, I'd think I'd been kidnapped by Harley Quinn."

"Striped. Not spotted," Cass murmured. She'd been on watch just outside, not moving, and the hyenas hadn't bothered her. Then again, Cass wasn't afraid of animals in general.

"Yeah, I know. Harley's are bigger and scarier." Steph ducked back inside the tent and pulled out their netbook, letting it boot up and sync to the satellite connection. She took her escrima sticks with her as she stepped out of the tent, just in case the hyenas felt like going after something bigger for dinner.

After months of camping and traveling and living in some pretty rough circumstances, Steph still managed to miss indoor plumbing. A lot. She went back to the tent, only to find Cass hunched over the map display of all the tracking devices, playing a loop of their movements over the last few hours.

Normally it was a swirl of randomness, people and trucks moving back and forth along varying routes, but today even Steph saw the pattern instantly, and she gasped. "Holy shit, they're moving."

"Toward this point," Cass said, touching the screen.

"We have to call it in," Steph said.

Cass, infuriatingly, shook her head. "Could be false. If trackers discovered. Must see, first."

"We need to call it in first, then head out to check it," Steph argued. Cass grumbled, but passed over the laptop to let her send the message.

Of course, the minute Steph pulled up the secure email, she saw a message from Babs. _Rioting in the streets here,_ she read. _The whole East End is a powder keg. I may be offline. If you don't hear from me, hold position and maintain surveillance._ "Ah, _shit_," Steph sighed, and sent a quick message describing this evening's discoveries.

Cass was up and dressed already, standing in the opening of the tent, and Steph felt her regard pointedly. "Oracle's offline. She left a message saying things in Gotham are heating up, and told us to hold position," Steph said, looking over her shoulder.

For a long moment, Cass just looked at her, and then looked out over the valley below them. Steph followed her gaze, and saw orangey light flickering from one of the little farms in the area. That looked like a fire, but bigger than the sort of outdoor cookfire they were used to seeing…

Cass adjusted her lenses, and frowned. "Not right." Even to Steph's gaze, the light was growing.

Steph cursed under her breath. A fire at one of the homesteads didn't bode well, combined with Shiva's men on the move. There could be innocents in trouble. "Let me dash off a message to Babs, and we'll go check it out."

"Meet me," Cass said, and was gone.

"_Fuck!_" Steph snapped, and typed as fast as she could. _Shiva's on the move. Farm on fire. Have to check it._ And then she yanked on her uniform, grabbing weapons and comms, and went pelting after Cass. Steph knew one thing for certain: she couldn't let Cass run up against Shiva alone.

…

Babs had shunted aside everything except the growing riot in the Bowery. Emergency services had been pushed back by the battling gangs, the police station was on fire, and there were casualties. Half a dozen women had been carted to the nearest ambulance, while that was still feasible. Numerous others had fled with some degree of injury. As for the dead, there were three of Dent's men and two of Joker's, so far. Two of the five killed had been shot by police when the fight rolled over into the station. Two more had been killed by opposing gang forces. The fifth, one of Joker's, had been slain by a handful of the women protesters. Babs had seen it happening, just a little too far away for any of her people to prevent, and had watched in horror as woman who looked like an ordinary single mom struggling to make ends meet had driven the splintered stake of her protest sign through the man's chest, while other women continued to beat on him. Most of the original protesters were long gone, but more women had arrived to replace them, and the ones left in the street now were out for blood.

It was a chaotic melee, and anyone who lost their footing was in danger of being killed. Babs was doing her best to direct her people and monitor incoming forces, but it looked like Joker and Dent were going to do battle by proxy tonight. The GCPD was pulling out all the stops, and she wasn't sure it would be enough.

…

Time passed, but Kala didn't pay any attention to it. She was lost in reverie. Jay's panic attack, and calming him down from it, the way he'd trusted her implicitly to guide him. Then his nightmare after the gala, his voice raw and shaken. _You can't let him hurt you.… I can't handle that._

A spark of anger woke in her chest. Joker had done this, somehow. The one thing Jay feared most of all now wasn't Joker himself – it was Joker changing targets and hurting _her_. Whatever had changed in Jay, it all harked back to Joker targeting Kala. Jay had warned her not to reveal her powers because it would enable Joker to realize what she was … and what her weaknesses were.

The Empress had been seething from the moment Jay raised his voice at her. Now, she breathed on that spark, making it burn hotter. _This is the fault of the Clown. That murderous vermin, that black hole which walks like a man. The Joker is our true foe._

In that much, Kala and her shadow-self were united. Hatred for the Joker burned bright and hot within her. She had hated him for what he'd done to Jay, and to Babs, and to hundreds or thousands of others. She'd even hated him for what he'd done to Harley. So far, she had held back from acting on that hatred due to several factors: too many potential witnesses, disapproval from Bruce or her own father, and not wanting to steal Jay's prerogative. Now, though, the Joker had managed to poison her relationship with Jay somehow. And while Kala could find restraint regarding damage done years ago, this loss was new and fresh and awful.

_Let me take care of him,_ the Empress murmured in her mind. _I will end this for you. We know where the Joker is. I can make it stop._

Kala shuddered in soul-deep negation. If she flew to Arkham and murdered Joker in his cell, everyone would know it was her. And everyone would know she'd lost control to her dark side. Joker's death would not be seen as righteous vengeance, it would make him a victim – and Kala could not bear that. He did not deserve compassion or pity.

Thwarted, she felt the Empress turn her regard on Jay. And while Kala herself was still too hurt to feel any other emotion, the Empress was _furious_. She had loved Jay, too. She had been fiercely protective of Jay. She had let down her guard, let Jay kiss her and touch her in ways that were utterly scandalous to Kryptonian norms. As far as the Empress was concerned, Jay was the first to have touched her so.

And he had betrayed her. Kala realized, feeling the seething wrath in the back of her mind, that she'd been right; she and the Empress were closer than ever before. Someday that split might really be healed, and if Jay hadn't just broken up with her, he might've been the one to fuse them.

Kala could only cry out _Why?!_ She still didn't understand why he'd done it. How could she have been so wrong about what he felt?

_I was not wrong,_ the Empress insisted. _He loved us. He chose to do this._

Her anger toward Jay was more complicated than her rage at Joker. It was love and hurt and betrayal all twisted up together, an ugly clotted mess of emotion. Kala tried to stamp down on it. The Empress had thrown Jay through a wall; she could do so much worse. _I will __**not**__ hurt Jay. Not even if he hurt me. Everyone else in his life has failed him, used him, hurt him. I won't. I don't care whether or not he deserves to be hurt. __**I**__ won't hurt him._

Of course, she felt that way because she _did_ love him, and that provoked a fresh round of sobbing, though her eyes stayed dry. Kala had no tears left to shed. She was so weary of the waves of pain that kept swamping her from every angle. It was like being battered by the storm-tossed sea, barely able to keep her head above water long enough to breathe, flung in all directions by waves and wind. She shuddered as the metaphor occurred to her; in reality, Kala would never allowed herself to be caught without powers near the ocean. Her drowning nightmares were too real. The thought of trying to survive something like that was horrifying – and the emotional equivalent grew weightier with the comparison.

_You should rest, child. Allow me to settle this for you,_ the Empress murmured.

Kala shivered. All she wanted was to let go, fall asleep, pray that somehow she'd wake up and all this would've been a bad dream. She could wake up in Jay's arms again on New Year's morning…

Again, that bitter, painful laughter escaped her. Of course it was New Year's. She should've known. From now on she was going to spend the New Year in some country where no one knew her, far from anything and anyone she loved. New Year's Day had brought this kind of destruction to her life once before. The worst argument ever with her mom, the worst disapproval from her dad, the betrayal from Sebast, Kala running away only to be captured by Lex Fucking Luthor, waking up in an underground lab being manhandled by thugs, meeting General Zod – all of those had happened on New Year's. The day was cursed for Kala. She'd been fool enough to think Jay could lift it, with fireworks and lovemaking, but no. Now she had new reasons to hate the holiday.

Always fucking New Year's.

_Let go,_ the Empress whispered.

Everything had gone wrong, she'd nearly ruined things with Sebast, her band was in danger of breaching their contract, the Gotham rogues were hunting her, Kala was exhausted and stressed by all of it, and through it all Jay had held her together. She'd been so happy, despite knowing how much work she had to do to get things right after the break, despite knowing she and Sebast might have to sell their house because she couldn't look at it without seeing Sebast, that everything the two of them had shared would now be divided between them, despite everything she'd been able to be _happy_ … and Jay had just let go. Of her, of _them_. With no warning, no sign of what he planned to do. Now she had nothing of her own, nothing to hold to, her life was strewn around her in pieces. Kala felt as though she were sitting atop a pile of rubble, remembering all the times Jay had said he wasn't going anywhere, and still he'd ripped it all apart like a tornado.

_Go to sleep,_ _my own heart, _the Empress said again. Gently, as if to an over-tired child. _I will fix this. I will keep you safe._

It was tempting. Oh so tempting. _I can't let go,_ Kala thought grimly. _If I do, you'll hurt Jay. I won't hurt him._ And she discovered she _did_ have a few tears left, after all.

_I will not harm him,_ the Empress promised. _He is not the target. The __**Joker**__ is. Let one who deserves this suffering feel it._

_The Joker is in Arkham surrounded by witnesses and cameras,_ Kala told herself. _And if I let you loose to kill him, they'll see __**me**__. The little bit that's left of my life will shatter._

Silence, and Kala was so bone-deep weary. She rested her head on her knees, every muscle aching. It would be so nice to let go for a little while, to be protected … but the Empress was not to be trusted. She would do the things Kala wouldn't let herself do, and it was Kala who would answer for it in the end. As she should – the Empress was her, after all.

_No killing__;_ _I promise you on all that we are, child__. I will cause no death in your name__, _the Empress agreed. _But I will make them see that they should not set their sights upon us. And I will show Jason Todd that we are not some weak fragile thing he must wound to protect. Let me help you. For love of you, let me__ make this right._

As much as she knew that her alter ego was mercurial at the best of times, Kala could feel reality slowly slipping away. Her eyelids fluttered, feeling so heavy. A few minutes of peaceful oblivion would be a balm, not to feel for just a little while. "God, I _need_ help," she whispered, her voice a rusty croak. "But how can I trust you to keep that promise?"

She was just so _tired, _the end of the sentence trailing off. It was all just too much.

_Because a promise meant everything to you as a child. Because I know better than all the rest what that one means to you. Sleep, sweet child. I will always protect you, even when others cannot. Even when you cannot._

Even as she tried to fight the urge, her eyes blinked twice more before they closed, and an exhausted Kala surrendered at last to silence and solace.

…

A moment later, the Empress rose with salt still drying on her cheeks, and the fury in her hazel eyes would have chilled Jay to the bone if he'd been there to see it.

* * *

_~I can feel you falling away_

_No longer the lost,_  
_No longer the same._  
_And I can see you starting to break._  
_I'll keep you alive_  
_If you show me the way._  
_Forever, and ever,_  
_The scars will remain._  
_I'm falling apart;_  
_Leave me here forever in the dark_

_God help me, I've come undone._  
_Out of the light of the sun._  
_God help me, I've come undone._  
_Out of the light of the sun...~_

~Breaking Benjamin, _Give Me a Sign_


End file.
